


I've Got You

by eb4life



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Coping, Depression, Drama, Fluff, Homophobia, M/M, Memory Loss, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Yuri Plisetsky's Nickname Is Yurio, bad coping, inaccurate medical facts, there are happy parts i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 19:51:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 80,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18125738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eb4life/pseuds/eb4life
Summary: Victor is irritated by his student (who is missing in action, and late- for the millionth time- to their skating practice) but when Victor hunts Yuri down to find out what could possibly be keeping him from skating practice, Victor finds himself picking up the broken pieces of Yuri. Rated for sort of graphic self-harm. Not a lemony ship, it's all fluff, my friends. Lots and lots of fluff!





	1. Cutting Rose Petals

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri!!! On Ice  
> Please let me know if anything I write seems disrespectful, false or tactless! I want this to be dramatic and fictional, but also realistic and I definitely do not want to offend anyone.  
> Also, if you have suggestions, requests or concerns, speak up! I want to this to be enjoyable for you guys! That being said, I know this story is a mess of chilches. It's just for fun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if anything I write seems disrespectful, false or tactless! I want this to be dramatic and fictional, but also realistic and I definitely do not want to offend anyone.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri!!! On Ice  
> TW: graphic depiction of self-harm  
> Also, if you have suggestions, requests or concerns, speak up! I want to this to be enjoyable for you guys! That being said, I know this story is a mess of chilches. It's just for fun!

CH1- Cutting Rose Petals

            Victor landed a triple axel heavily yet gracefully, his skates slamming into the sharp ice with enough force to send shards that sparkled like glass flying up to his tense jaw. His arms were not the slender, arching swan necks that the world was familiar with. They'd become rigid and inflexible like steel rods of cold hard metal. He didn’t have the light, flirtatious air about him, or the positive, friendly mood.

            Victor was _pissed_.

            Yuri was late. Again. Like always, for the past few months. Without any legitimate reason. Plus, the young student was also hiding something. He avoided eye contact all the time, he suddenly didn’t have time to spend with Victor, and he was acting weird.

            It was irritating Victor to no end. A good coach knows his students. He knows their pasts, their goals, their secrets, their fears, their hopes and dreams and everything in between. For a coach to not know the secret that a student of said coach was so stubbornly hiding… it was just unacceptable.

            Also, Yurio was constantly bugging him about it and expecting him to answers. This only further frustrated Victor by reminding him that he had no idea what was going on with his student. It grated on his already mostly raw nerves.

            And the cherry on top of the frustration sundae was the all the adoring fans. They were becoming increasingly relentless in trying to get either Victor’s or Yuri’s attention, signatures, personal possessions, advice. Victor was as kind and charming as he could be, but he irrationally kind of hated the people who treated him like a golden god instead of a human being. It bothered him even more when they dragged his bumbling, anxious student into the picture.

            Victor sighed heavily through his nose and came to a screeching halt, showering slivers of ice into a small pile in front of him. He glared at the tops of his ebony skates, long bangs fluttered to cover his sharp eyes.

            “Late,” he spat darkly, his already poor mood deepening exponentially.

            Victor grimaced at just how pathetic his mental pity-party was and slammed a fist onto the plastic siding of the rink like a hammer against a nail. The echo created by the blast was sharp and explosive in the empty building, and Victor relished rather moodily in its tone.

            He had been waiting over forty-five minutes, hoping that his pupil had simply lost track of time during his early morning jog, or maybe woke up late and was rushing to practice, about to burst right through that door any minute with a red face, babbling apologies and his head bowed low to the ground.

            Victor looked up, half expecting the door to actually fly open to reveal his student gasping, out of breath and sweating fiercely from his sprinting but, alas, no one was to be found. Victor groaned, massaging his temples as he leaned against the blue and white plastic siding.

_Where._

_Was._

_Yuri_.

            Also, why was his student’s now constant tardiness so distressing, and irritating, and enraging, and infuriating, and aggravating, and… and… and…

            It was unreal just how much trouble Yuri could be sometimes. From random emotional outbursts to being ridiculously cute and distracting, it was a wonder that Victor was still sane.

            Well. Partially sane, anyways.

            Victor pulled himself upright, determination glinting like lightening in his bright eyes. He was going to find Yuri and drag him onto the rink, if he had to. He’d practice a good scolding to make Yuri feel guilty and never miss or be late to practice again. Victor sighed, sagging with defeat. In all reality, Yuri had probably just slept in, which probably wasn’t on purpose.

            Unless he was just relaxing in bed, enjoying the warmth and softness of his blankets and would rather be there than join Victor on the ice. Victor straightened back up and skated off the ice with purpose, plopping down on a bench where he began untying his laces. He checked his phone for the millionth time, hoping that he had just missed a text or a call saying that maybe Yuri was sick or otherwise unable to come.

            Victor froze, one skate dangling by its strings in his fist, the other resting on the floor peacefully while his phone suffering from a slow death of suffocation by his own fingers.

_What if Yuri was sick?_

_What if he had been in an accident?_

            Victor suddenly felt ill as guilt hit him like a big ugly, eighteen-wheeled, shipping truck.

            He was wasting time complaining about Yuri’s laziness while the kid could be lying somewhere bleeding out. Or struggling to open the door to his home because his fever-weakened arms trembled too much. Or hunched over a bucket, tossing up his insides, all alone in his bedroom, crying in pain.

            Victor dropped his phone, not bothering to catch it as it clattered loudly to the floor along with his skates. His heart was raced and beat like a drum in his ears. His hands trembled as adrenaline flowed through his veins.

_Wait._

            What was he doing? His Yuri could be bleeding out on the streets or deathly ill in his bathroom for all he knew. He had to find Yuri and figure out what happened, not sit at the rink and waste time stressing and pitying himself.

            Giving himself a mental shake, Victor tugged his sneakers on quickly, leaving his skates in a pile on the floor, even thought they could easily be taken by anyone who used the rink. He then flew out the door, not bothering to even throw a coat on to protect himself from the sharp cold.

            As he sprinted along Yuri’s usual route, Victor searched for ambulances and fallen dark-haired boys, his ears listening intently for sirens and shouts and cries of dismay or alarm or pain.

            He ran faster.

            Victor got weird looks from pedestrians, who he could tell were whispering about him, but he didn’t care. All his focus was set on one thing— one person, really. His feet pounded on the concrete beneath him and the cold air chilled him to the core.

            He found himself gasping for breath at the top of the hill where Yuri’s home sat in front of a slowly wakening sky. Victor paused to catch his breath, holding himself up with his hands braced on his thighs. He slightly regretted leaving his jacket.

            Straightening up, he speed walked to the hot springs building, trying to look relatively natural and calm anyone that might have seen his hasty entrance.

            “Victor, dear, how are you?” Yuri’s mother asked kindly.

            Her soft, round face lit up in a bright beaming smile. Victor nodded politely, saying a quick “good morning” as he slipped past her, socked feet almost flying out from under him.

            Mrs. Katsuki chuckled at him, saying “boys will be boys,” before continuing down the hall. Victor was a grown man. A responsible, respectable, well-rounded, grown man. He was not a _boy_.

            On that note, the ever-graceful grown man found himself faceplanting on his way down the hall of Yuri’s bedroom. His feet went flying out from under him and he slid on his bottom past the bedrooms, skidding to a stop just in front of the bathroom.

            Cursing in his native tongue, Victor clambered to his knees, using the wall as an aid to get off the floor. He was about to keep going down the hall towards Yuri’s room when he heard a sound that made him freeze.

            It was like a soft sob. It was a heartbroken, lost, snot-dripping, ugly kind of crying that was desperately hushed, probably for the fear of being found. And it was coming from the bathroom.

            Victor’s head snapped towards the direction of the room and he noticed that the sliding door was partly open. Intrigue and dread peaking, Victor scooted across the floor on hands and knees, trying to be as quiet as he could.

            Once he reached the door that separated the hallway from the bathroom, he slid as close as he dared, trying to breath quieter and strain his ears to hear the voice coming from the bathroom.

            The voice whispering along with the teary cries was shaking with emotion and sounded incredibly raw, like the owner of the voice had been crying or yelling for a while. That was when Victor realized that he recognized those whispering stutters and sniffles.

            Victor slowly turned his head to peek through the crack between the door and the wall. His eyes struggled to adjust to the bright light that filtered through the window from the early morning sun.

            At first, he didn’t see anyone, just a fluttering white curtain and deep green bushes from outside the windows set above the sink. He saw a clean, fresh bathroom. Nothing out of the ordinary.

            Then he saw a line of red paint oozing across the white tiled floor, coming from somewhere outside his field of vision. His first thought was that none of the Katsuki’s painted, so it was pretty unusual for paint to be around. Then he realized that the red paint was a bit too runny to be paint.

            A hunched body came into view. Victor could make out pale skin and dark hair. And a rumpled white sleep shirt?

            Victor’s muddled mind slowly started knitting together the pieces of information in front of him, but he didn’t really understand what was going on until he raised himself up in order to peer over the person’s shoulder to discover what their attention was so fixed on. Then he saw that it was Yuri.

            And then he saw Yuri’s arm.

            More specifically, a long blade gleaming ferally against skin that reddened and puckered in response. Thin lines of red quickly dripping out of the severed veins. Victor’s eyes widened and his heart thundered in his chest like a bird wishing to break free.

            Victor blinked uncomprehendingly at first. Then the darkness of reality slapped him in the face like a barbed metal baseball bat. He saw stars. Victor slumped to the ground, legs giving up on supporting him. He clawed a hand through his hair and gripped it.

_This couldn’t be happening._

             “Why?” a hesitant, emotion-ragged voice whispered loud enough for Victor to hear.

            Victor blinked in confusion, thinking for a second that the voice was talking to him.

            “Why?” the voice—Yuri—repeated.

            “ _Why_. I shouldn’t… so _useless,_ I— why am I … don’t deserve…”

            Even though Victor only caught snippets, he felt he caught the gist.

            His jaw tensed, eyes going hard. How dare they. How dare anyone tell this… _gift_  of a human being, that he wasn’t worth something, that he didn’t deserve something. He wanted to know who told Yuri he was worthless. He clenched his fist, biting hard on his lip in disgust. Some people were just so…

            Then it really hit him.

            Yuri was doing it. Now. Like,  _rightnow_.

            Victor stared at the floor with a stunned expression. What was he supposed to do? What could he do? Bust the door down like a cop from a cheesy action movie and scare the ever-loving crap out of his roommate-of-sorts? Should he leave him alone and address the problem later? Was that even an option?

            Hearing a pained gasp, Victor’s attention immediately grasped onto the image of a boy marking his skin, painting the floor in red.

            “Okay, that’s it,” Victor decided, throwing tact and grace to the wind as he slammed into the door, belatedly remembering that doors in Japan slide to open.

            Victor barreled headfirst into the door, bouncing off the hard surface with a bang. Recovering quickly, he jerked the thin door to the side so hard, it rattled on its frame. For a moment, he stood still, arms bracing against the doorway to hold himself up and his eyes burning with anger.

            “Stop,  _stop_ ,  _во_ _имя_ _Бога_ _стоп_ _!”_ he demanded after catching his breath, wildly throwing himself on the smaller figure in front of him.

            Yuri hit the deck with a strangled yelp and Victor ripped the stained knife out of the smaller hands, sending it hurtling across the room. Both winced at the clatter it made when it slammed into the wall.

            “What are you doing? ты в своем уме?! Я не понимаю!” Victor's face felt hot and his eyes were becoming wet.

            Yuri stared up at Victor in awe from an awkwardly suggestive position under his coach.

            “You kn-know I have no idea wh-what you’re saying….” Yuri stuttered softly, still able to blush like a rose despite what he'd been doing to himself only seconds before.

            Victor, who had been sitting on Yuri and throwing his arms around in the air while ranting in Russian, immediately froze in place, realizing he was probably terrifying his best friend.

            “Oh God. I-I’m sorry…. I…I…” Victor struggled to breath.

            He scrambled off of Yuri, falling backwards on his bottom and awkwardly scuttling backwards until his back hit the shower stall with a thud.

            “I didn’t mean to... I was just trying to… I….” Victor trailed off, his gaze snagging on the wrists that were much redder than they should be.

            He felt disoriented and out of place. Yuri sat up, shoulders hunched up to his ears defensively. It broke Victor’s heart to think that he was the reason Yuri was so drawn in and nervous.

            “I-it’s okay,” Yuri stuttered, not meeting his coach’s eyes.

            Yuri pulled his knees up to his chin, wrapping his arms around his legs and buried his face into his kneecaps. Victor felt his heart shatter at the image.

            “Yuri….” he said quietly.

            Victor practically threw himself on Yuri, who squawked, arms rushing up to catch Victor before he faceplanted onto the floor. Victor clutched Yuri close to his chest, burying his nose into the fluffy hair, memorizing its clean smell.

            “Why?” Victor whispered, voice cracking.

            Yuri looked up in confusion. Victor held on tighter.

            “Why would you… why? It’s like cutting rose petals… why would you want do that?”

            Yuri didn’t answer. He sighed contentedly into Victor’s neck, his shorter arms wrapping around the taller man’s torso and dragging bright red stains along wherever he touched.

            “Who told you those things?” Victor asked, his voice catching in his throat, unable to speak those words, even if they were only use in quotation.

            Yuri pulled back, staring with soft eyes up at Victor.

            “Wh-who said what things? What are you t-trying to say?” he asked patiently, switching from comfortee to comforter.

            Victor let out a bitter laugh at the switch of roles and dropped his forehead to Yuri’s thinly clothed shoulder, reveling in the warmth.

            “Who told you that you're worthless?” he asked so quietly, he thought Yuri might not have heard him.

            The tensed muscles and stuttering breath told Victor otherwise.

            “I… no one in particular…” Yuri trailed off, fiddling with the ends of Victor’s silky hair.

            Victor reached up to gently grasp Yuri’s wrists.

            “Who?” his rough voice begged.

            “Seriously, I don’t even remember their names…. I- I just…. They were dumb schoolyard bullies, people online— it d-doesn’t matter who said it or what they said. It just sticks, you know? It s-sticks. And I guess with all the things I’ve been losing... I don’t handle loss well. Or failure. Or anything negative really. And you and-and everyone else are just s-so  _good_  while I… I can’t do anything…” Yuri shook his head.

            “Why does it stick? Who cares what they think?” Victor released Yuri’s wrists immediately when Yuri winced at the tightness of his grip.

            Yuri placed his small palms over Victor’s lips to stop the ceaseless questions, blushing when Victor boldly kissed his hands.

            "It’s okay, really it’s fine I-I don’t care what they think, not really.” Yuri looked down, dropping his hand onto his lap. He flinched when Victor held the side of his face and raised his head. Dark chocolate met skyline blue.

            “Don’t look down. Don’t… don’t. Don’t be ashamed.”

            Yuri opened his mouth, probably to argue, but Victor silenced him with one raised finger.

            “You did something that's... not great. Something that breaks my heart, but you’ve done nothing that you should be embarrassed over. Are you listening?” Victor demanded, tapping Yuri’s cheek when the boy’s gaze drifted to the side.

            Yuri gave a sharp nod, snapping to attention.

            “You don’t believe me,” Victor realized sadly, hands dropping to Yuri’s shoulders.

            Yuri shook his head quickly, arms waving defensively in front of him.

            “O-of course I believe you, Victor! Wha-what do you mean—”

            “Yuri don’t lie, I can tell when you’re lying.”

            Yuri’s sad smile drooped, and his dried wrists rested on the floor. A moment of silence passed between them, giving Victor the chance to wonder just where Yuri’s parents were. From all the shouting and falling and thudding that had happened in the bathroom, it would have been reasonable to believe that parents would come running. Unless they thought…

            Victor’s face glowed red.

            “Hey…Yuri…”

            Yuri looked up expectantly and Victor was once again taken by the boy’s soft features.

            “I was wondering…” Victor trailed off, swallowing hard. "You know you’re... important…right?”

            Yuri’s eyes widened.

            “I... what?”

            “I heard some of the things you were saying when you… when you were doing that, and you said… well it sounded like you didn’t think you mattered,” Victor explained.

            He felt flustered and couldn’t find the right words, which was an unnatural for him. Yuri stared up at him with the awe and wonder that seemed more fit for angels and gods, than a babbling, blushing skating coach. Victor flinched when Yuri threw his arms around him, practically crawling into his lap.

            “Without you so much would change. You can’t do something like that. You can’t just eject yourself like that. Why… why would you want to?” Victor asked, his arms falling naturally around Yuri’s waist.

            “I… I mean, no one really…” Yuri had his face pressed into Victor’s red stained shirt, his words muffled into oblivion.

            “What was that?” Yuri sighed in response, turning his head sideways so he could be heard.

            “Ugh, it— it sounds so stupid…” Yuri said, wrapping his arms around himself in a pseudo-hug.

            “No reason to do this is stupid,” Victor argued sternly.

            Yuri sighed and tried again to convey his reasoning.

            “No one— God, this is so stupid, seriously I’m going to sound like a teenager. No one needs me, you know? I guess that’s... I-I mean, it’s true that I don’t actually do much—” 

            “Yuri,” Victor pulled Yuri as close as he possibly could.

            "See?" Yuri said flatly, mistaking the purpose behind his coach's actions. "Pretty pathetic."

            “No, it’s not. You mean so much to a lot of people. How could you—” Victor placed his hands on either side of Yuri’s face and lifted the boy’s head, staring into his eyes with fierce passion. “This isn't pathetic. And it's not stupid. You do so much for people. They’d notice if you were gone."

            Victor felt warm wetness sliding down his hands. His eyes widened when he realized that the warmth was Yuri’s tears cascading down his fingers.

            “Oh God! What did I— did I do something wrong?” Victor asked in a panic, only to be interrupted by shaky laughter.

            He looked up to see Yuri, eyes shining, tears pouring and still, he had the energy to laugh.

            “No, no, you- you did nothing wrong,” Yuri said, patting Victor shoulders comfortingly.

            “Yuri. I did everything wrong,” Victor chastised himself, squeezing Yuri close, his face pressed into the front of Yuri’s white shirt.

            “Wh-what—”

            “You spent how long believing that you weren’t worth anything? And I didn’t notice? What kind of coach— what kind of friend am I—” something like velvet was covering Victor’s lips again for half a second.

            But this time it wasn’t Yuri’s hands. How completely and wonderfully  _eros_ , of Yuri.

            “You did… nothing wrong.” Yuri said when he pulled away.

            Victor looked down at the little tornado that had planted itself on his lap.

            “But I should have—”

            “What? Should have— have followed me all over the place, like— like some kind of lost puppy or something?” Yuri demanded angrily.

            Victor blinked, surprised by the outburst.

            “Should you have watched me? S-stalked me?” Yuri’s voice seemed to be rising in both pitch and volume.

            “Wha— no! I didn’t mean it like that—” Victor scoffed, only to be cut off.

            “Good. Normal p-people don’t stalk their friends,” Yuri said, a slight smirk settling on his face.

            Victor grinned, pressing his face into Yuri’s hair.

            “Still, I should have noticed—”

            “Did I act much differently?” Yuri interrupted; voice suddenly bold.

            “…sorry?” Victor pulled back in confusion.

            “I said, d-did I act any differently? Have you noticed me acting differently? Have you noticed me acting any different than how I was when we met?” Yuri clarified while simultaneously confusing Victor even further.

            “I…. I don’t…. No,” Victor said.

            “And can you guess why that is?” Yuri whispered, fiddling with the hem of Victor’s shirt.

            Victor looked down at his lap, blatant confusion written across his sharp features. He bit his lip, brow furrowed and shook his head, He had no idea why that was.

            “It means that I’ve b-been like this since before I knew you. That means there is n-no way you could have figured out something was going on. There was no way for you t-to know that this isn’t how I normally act,” Yuri said softly, forcing Victor to look at him, holding the other’s face between his small hands.

            “It’s not your fault,” Yuri said, tightening his arms around his coach.

            “I guess.”

            “Vic…?” Yuri started with concern, and Victor realized he was shaking.

            “This is a bit backwards, isn’t it? Aren’t I supposed to be comforting you?” Victor muttered, his arms wrapping around Yuri’s waist. Yuri grinned in response.

            “Maybe,” Yuri said. “B-but sometimes… it’s better to do things together, right?” Yuri chuckled nervously, lying his head on Victor’s chest.

            Victor marveled at how perfectly they fit together and how Yuri was like a warm blanket, compared to the cold floor of the bathroom they still sat in. Victor shuddered as he realized that he could have been to be losing this person.


	2. Aftershock and His Sister Anxiety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: very graphic description of self-harm  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Yuri!!! on Ice.  
> This chap is pretty dramatic, so hit me up if you're choking on melodrama. I'll dial it back a bit if it's too much.  
> Also, big thanks to everyone who Kudo-ed and bookmarked and all the things, I love you guys!  
> Now, on with the show!

CH2- Aftershock and His Sister Anxiety

            Victor woke slowly. His head felt like empty space and maybe cotton fluff. He was lying in peaceful silence, which he didn’t get often in his colourful life. The sun streaming in gently from the window was golden and warm, making Victor want to sink deeper into his plush mattress and cozy thick blankets.

            He snuggled into his fluffy pillow, only to feel something cool as his face slid to an unused part of the pillow. Grimacing at the slight discomfort, Victor opened his eyes for real this time, glancing at his clock. Bright red numbers proclaimed it to be 9:45.

            Not fully understanding the numbers, Victor continued to dully squint at the glaring light from his alarm clock. Those numbers meant something important, but he couldn’t put his finger on what that was. He slowly raised his head from the pillow, panic rising as realization spread slow as melting butter on a warm pancake.

            He was late.

_He_ was _late_.

            And to the biggest thing he had going on, at the time being. Yuri’s lessons, that is.

            Victor shook his head to clear his sleep-muddled mind and his heart started frantically racing. The oh-God-I’m-late feeling settled in. He sprang out of bed and stumbled across the room towards his closet. He began rummaging for clothes, tugging on the first undershirt and pair of grey sweatpants his hands touched.

            Victor made a mad dash out of his room, twisting down the halls and doing his best to avoid people and corners and tables. Despite his best efforts, his hip had quite the introduction to several tables and his elbow kissed a few walls with more enthusiasm than expected.

            When he finally came to the building’s exit, Victor fell to the ground and began yanking his shoes on without giving enough attention to tie them. He was up and running out the door in seconds. Taking the steps two at a time, Victor practically flew down the stairs that lead from the hilltop the hot springs home was sat on down to the civilization below that lay slowly awakening.

            He jogged at a pretty regular pace until he found himself stuck at the busy intersection that took at least five minutes to cross. Watching the traffic carefully, Victor spotted an opening in the line of vehicles going by and was off like a rocket.

            He raced across the street in record time and pounded up the stairs to the ice rink, ignoring the burning in his legs. He muttered curses against the Japanese customs of making thousand step staircases to every single building, which made it impossible to get anywhere quickly. He was panting by the time he managed to get up the stairs and paused just a second to calm himself and get his breath back. Once he was breathing relatively evenly again, Victor burst through the heavy double doors with a metallic clang        that echoed through the empty rink.

“Sorry I’m late, Yu—” Victor stopped when he realized that there was no one in the rink.

            “Yu…ri?” he asked uncertainly, his breathy voice echoing through the cavernous building.

            There was no one on the ice, or by the vending machines, or in the seats on the edge of the rink. Victor relished in the soothing cool air that was wafting off the ice and onto his burning face.

            “Yuri, are you here?” Victor asked as he came up to the benches that the two usually sat their belongings during their practices.

            He found Yuri’s equipment bag resting under the bench, his skates lying abandoned on top of the seat. Victor lightly touched the blades of the skates with one finger, his face contorted in confusion.

            “Yuri….” Victor pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent his fingers zooming across the screen as he began calling his missing student.

            Victor’s head whipped up when he heard Yuri’s cheerful ringtone sing.

            “Yuri?” Victor called out with more confidence, hedging along the rounded ice rink.

            “Yuri, I know you’re here. I can hear your phone!” he called out with a teasing song in his voice.

            He slunk across the rink wall until he came to the men’s bathroom door. The tone stopped jingling as it cut to voicemail, but Victor knew where Yuri was. He pushed the bathroom door open.

            “Yuri, I’m coming in!” he announced boldly, pocketing his phone as he stepped into the brightly lit room.

            He peered around, searching for any signs of life until he saw a closed stall. He sighed, crossing his arms.

            “Yuri. I know you’re in here,” Victor said, expecting a shy and sheepish student to come out of the stall, blushing.

            When nothing happened, Victor’s brow furrowed, and he approached the offending stall.

            “Yuri, you aren’t crying in there again, are you?” he asked through the door, only half-joking.

            There was no answer. He sighed, a little irritated, mostly worried.

            “Come on, I know you’re in there…” He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the stall door, sighing.

            “Yuri—” he opened his eyes and his voice choked to silence.

            He couldn’t look away, his every muscle locking him in place.

            There was blood. `

            So much blood.

            It was oozing out from under the stall. He hadn’t even noticed he’d been standing in it.

            Victor jumped back, leaving gory footprints and red smears across the white tiled floor. That was blood. Those smears were blood. Frantically, Victor tried to scrub the blood off his shoe by scraping it against the ground before reality finally shocked him back to the present.

            “Yu—Yuri! _”_  Victor pounded on the stall door wild and desperate, but the door swung right open.

            Lying on the now dark red tile, was Yuri.

            A still, unmoving Yuri.

            A red-stained, pale looking Yuri.

            “Yu…ri?” Victor asked confused, not fully comprehending.

            He cocked his head to the side, blinking owlishly at his friend. He fell hard to his knees and bile rose in his throat. Victor continued to stare at the body lying slumped across the cool tile. Blood was seeping into Victor’s sweatpants, which were soaking it up like they were trying to preserve the cool liquid.

            Tears hot as fire began streaming down Victor’s slack-jawed. He tentatively reached a shaking hand out to Yuri but stopped, hovering just above the other boy’s arm. His hand lowered slowly and rested on the other’s arm.

            A cold, stiff arm.

            A horrible, aching sob ripped through Victor’s throat, scraping his vocal chords and sending knives of agony through the sill air. He gripped Yuri’s arm, his other hand covering his mouth to try to contain his cries. His hand slid up to cover his eyes, the other gripping even tighter on Yuri’s unmoving arm. He heard the clatter of metal clinking to the hard floor and raised his head.

            A knife.

            Covered with blood and sitting innocently on the floor.

            Victor stared at it.

            “No… no, Yuri… you didn’t…you wouldn’t…” trembling fingers pushed up the black sleeves of the jacket that sculpted to Yuri’s body.

            Scars— white, purple, red. Scabs— dark red, almost black. Lines bright, bright crimson. Fresh.

            Victor felt rage beginning to boil in his chest and his body trembled, breath hitching uncontrollably. He snatched the knife from the floor and flung it across the room, feeling a deep satisfaction as the knife somehow struck on of the tall mirrors, shattering both objects.

            Fractures of glass and metal glinted in the light as they fell to the floor. Red droplets scattered, flying everywhere and staining the stalls, the floors, the ceiling, the walls. The bathroom looked like a murder scene.

            Victor turned his attention back to Yuri, who was still curled up in front of the toilet. What was he going to do now? Yuri was fine— well, not _fine_ , but fine enough last night. They talked. Yuri wasn’t going to do this again, so why did he? How could this happen so suddenly? And how could Victor have not noticed? He could have stopped this. He could have—

            Victor reached out and pulled Yuri up by the shoulders. He was cold. He wrapped his arms around Yuri and pulled him close to his chest. Yuri’s head fell on his shoulder and Victor clung to him, sobbing into his dark hair.

            “Yuri, Yuri, Yuri…” he gasped, uttering the name that meant home, and family, and warmth. The name that was now cold, and still.

            “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he chanted, regretting every time he had ever left Yuri alone, even if it was for a moment, even if it was simply because they slept in different rooms.

            “It’s all my fault, I’m so sorry, Yuri, please, please, don’t be… Please don’t be—”

            “Victor?” a hushed, breathy voice called uncertainly.

            Victor flinched back, almost letting go of the body in his arms. Then he realized that the voice had actually come from the body in his arms. The body whose head had turned to stare up at Victor with soulless dark eyes, his once soft, warm face turned into a dark parody.

            “Yuri… You… You’re back.” Victor said breathlessly, joy tingling through him.

            “How could you do this to me?” Yuri asked, sounding betrayed and looking heartbroken.

            “Wh-what?”

            “Why did you let me die?” Yuri asked, hand grasping around one of Victor’s arms.  
            “Yuri, I…” Victor remembered last night.

            He remembered Yuri telling him that it wasn’t his fault.

            “You let me die.”

            The grip on his arm was bruising.

            “N-no…”

            “You… you _killed_ me. It’s your fault.” Yuri’s voice was steadily increasing in volume and a deep rushing sound started pounding in Victor’s ears as he stared agape, not comprehending. “… your fault… your fault… YOUR FAULT. _YOUR FAULT. YOUR—”_

 

~

 

            Victor jerked awake with a yelp, his legs tangling in something heavy as he thudded to the floor.    Concerned shouting erupted from the room next to him and Victor began fighting off the heavy thing, which turned out to be his blankets. His wordless shouts were somewhere between angry growls and pathetic whimpers of frustration.

            Suddenly, a question toned voice said something unintelligible from the room next door and a loud squeak of ancient door hinges ripped through the air. Victor continued to spaz around his room, vaguely aware of steady pounding coming closer to him from the other side of his door. A sharp rapping against the old wood of his door nearly gave him a heart attack.

            “U-um, Victor?”

            Victor heard the words but couldn’t make sense of them or who was saying them. He was practically convulsing with the desire to free himself.

            “Victor? Victor are you awake? Are you okay? I-I heard yelling, did you- did you trip?”

            Victor’s head whipped up from his focus on his tangled blankets. The speaker’s voice suddenly registered as familiar in his head. That voice was Yuri. But was that dead-Yuri? Or was that alive-Yuri? Was Yuri alive? Was Victor alive?

            “Yuri?” Victor called out, his voice cracking and shaking.

            “Victor? Victor, it’s m-me, Victor, it’s Yuri. Please, o-open the door,” Yuri ordered sharply.

            The knocking became more insistent. When he realized that this was the real Yuri, Victor snapped into action. He desperately fought off the impossibly powerful blankets that were squeezing him like a python choking out its prey. His pleas for help getting louder by the second.

            “I can’t— just can’t!” Victor yelled, feeling trapped.

            “V-Victor, are you okay?” Yuri asked.

            Victor struggled to find the words to express his situation and merely kicked at his blankets, which were twisting more than they were coming undone.

            “Victor, I… I’m coming in,” Yuri announced, voice suddenly hard.

            Before Victor could yell out that the door was locked, the door banged open and Yuri stampeded in, throwing all caution to the wind.

            Victor stared up at Yuri, drinking in the image of his student alive and animated, gripping the doorknob with one hand, his other bracing against the doorway. Yuri’s hair was disheveled, and his shorts and long-sleeved t-shirt were wrinkled, but Victor thought, in that moment, that he was beautiful.

            Victor watched as Yuri’s worried eyes searched Victor’s bed. After a quick scan that saw no Victor, his attention turned to the floor where he found the struggling coach.

            “V-Victor, are you okay?” Yuri fell to his knees dramatically, tugging on the numerous blankets wrapped around Victor’s legs.

            Victor, however had stopped moving, attention captured by Yuri’s face.

            “Yuri? It’s you?” he asked, not thinking about what he was saying.

            Yuri paused and cocked his head to the side, a rather endearing show of confusion.

            “What do you mean? Of course, it’s me.” Yuri shook his head and turned back to the detangling of blankets, but Victor put a hand on his arm, then shivered at the memory of doing the same thing in his dream.

            Yuri glanced back at Victor, who was starting to panic, his forced breathing sounding wheezy.

            “Victor… was it a bad dream?” Yuri asked gently, cupping his coach’s sweating face.

            That small, sensitive question was enough to send Victor and his scrambled mind over the edge. He began choking on his breaths but managed to keep the tears at bay. Yuri stared in wonder for a second but shook himself and moved to comfort his coach.

            “W-what happened? Do… do you want to talk about it? I’ll listen— if you want me to,” Yuri whispered, petting Victor’s normally silken hair that was now in tangles and ruffles like it hadn’t been brushed in days.

            “I don’t— I can’t—” Victor broke off, a swell of panic getting the best of him.

            “Hey, t-take a deep breath. You don’t have to tell me right this second if you can’t. It’s… it’s going to be okay, I’ve got you.” Yuri sounded surprisingly calm.

            Victor suddenly grabbed Yuri’s arms, pulling his sleeves up so his wrists were in view. Yuri flinched at the abrupt movement. Victor stared down at the thin white scars, the only things the blemished the otherwise smooth, cream colored skin. He ran his thumbs over Yuri’s wrist gently, mostly to sooth himself than the other.

            “Victor, what—” Yuri started, a little discontentedly.

            “You died,” Victor said flatly, squeezing the arms in his grasp.

            “I… what?”

            “In my dream,” Victor clarified flatly. “You died. You died and you said it was my fault.”

            Yuri blinked, clearly not having expected that.

            “I... how— how did I... die? Some sort of freak accident? To be honest, that’s- that’s how I see myself going,” Yuri chuckled self-deprecatingly.

            “I wasn’t there,” Victor muttered, eyes boring holes into the floor.

            “You weren’t... I’m sorry, but… but I’m not following,” Yuri admitted. “You weren’t where?”

            “I woke up late. When I got the rink, I couldn’t find you. You were in the bathroom and—” Victor took a shuddering breath. “You were dead. In the bathroom, on the floor, you were dead. It wasn’t an accident, you—”

            “I killed myself,” Yuri finished softly.

            Victor shook his head wildly, tears brimming.

            “It was my fault. I wasn’t with you. If I were with you I could’ve… could’ve…”

            “Could’ve what, Victor?” Yuri demanded, voice uncharacteristically sharp. “Could’ve stopped me? Could’ve… what, taken the knife from my hand? And then what? Would you follow me around for the rest of my life? You can’t do that, Victor, we _talked_ about this. And— and you know there’s going to come a time where… where you won’t be able to be with me all the time. A-at some point, if I want it to happen, then it’s going to happen. If I really wanted to… to kill myself— _which I don’t_ — but, if I did, I’d find a way. I… I would find a way, Victor. Regardless of how close, or far you are at the time. You wouldn’t be able to stop me. And it wouldn’t be your fault. Do you— do you understand what I’m saying?”

            Victor stared up at Yuri, gnawing his lip raw.

            “But if I was there… I didn’t… you…”

            “I-it sucks. It r-really does, but it was a bad dream. It didn’t happen. And it won’t. I promise. That’s not why I… I just won’t. It will never happen.”

            Victor threw himself on top of Yuri, who hit the floor harder than a rock from the sky. Yuri closed his arms tightly around Victor as the distraught coach rested his forehead on Yuri’s shoulder. Victor couldn’t seem to hold his student close enough, tight enough, couldn’t get enough of him in his arms.

            “H-hey, I’m not going anywhere, y-you don’t have to suffocate me!” Yuri laughed, his voice muffled by Victor’s chest.

            Victor didn’t move, or even acknowledge Yuri’s comment.

            “Victor?” Yuri asked hesitantly.

            Victor mumbled something in response, already feel sleep’s iron weight. The restless night he’d had wasn’t at all rejuvenating enough.

             “Are you s-sleeping?”

            Victor grumbled wordlessly at him.

            “Do you… do you want to go back to bed?”

            Victor’s response was to burrow into Yuri’s neck, inhaling the fresh sheets and rain smell before sighing contentedly. Yuri shook his head, a fond, exasperated smirk playing on his lips. He wrapped his arms securely around Victor and rose to his knees, the other’s dead weight leaning against him.

            “For someone so in shape, you’re _really_ heavy!” he complained, shuffling awkwardly to the wall beside Victor’s bed.

            “… ‘s sssolid… muscle…” Victor retorted groggily.

            Yuri rolled his eyes and shifted so his back was against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around Victor’s waist. Once the two were vertical, Yuri began slinking slowly to the bed, where he deposited his heavy cargo. He rolled Victor onto his back and grabbed the now untangled blankets to spread them gently across Victor. He turned to leave but was yanked to a stop by a hand clenching his wrist. He glanced back to see Victor blinking up at him sluggishly, his eyelids barely open.

            “Stay?” he requested.

            Yuri blinked, surprise written across his features.

            “Please,” Victor slurred, sleep threatening to completely drag him down with its soft, inviting fingers.

            “Of course, Vic, of course,” Yuri assured him, sitting lightly on the edge of the bed, trying to disturb Victor as little as possible.

            His plans were foiled when Victor reached over and gripped Yuri around the waist, effectively spoiling any hope of Yuri getting up any time soon. Victor dragged his student closer to him, pinning the boy to both himself and the bed with an iron grip.

            “Um, Victor, d-don’t you think this is a little—a-and you’re already asleep.” Yuri shook his head, a small exasperated smile played fondly on his face.

            He hesitantly rolled in Victor’s grip, so he faced his coach and slid so his head fit perfectly under Victor’s chiseled chin, molding himself more snuggly to Victor’s chest. An unconscious sigh of blissful content left Victor. Yuri grinned at the sound, relishing in how reassuring and familiar it was, despite the nerves that were cramping his stomach. His smile melted from his face as he bit his lip, remembering the horrifying nightmare that had been described to him.

            “Hopefully, I can keep your nightmares away, right?” he whispered to Victor, who snuffled his hair in response.

            Yuri giggled.

            “I’ll do my best.”


	3. Skate With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of suicide/self-harm  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri!!! On Ice  
> Feel free to drop a line with comments, questions, requests, etc. and have a good day, my loves!

CH3- Skate with Me

 

            Victor woke slowly, the bliss of warm covers wrapped snuggly around him kept him from getting up and starting the day. His cocoon was heavenly, why would he want to leave that? He rolled over, hoping to reach maximum comfort when he felt something harder than blankets but still soft. Scrunching his eyebrows in confusion, Victor started open his eyes, but something warm began smoothing the lines of his face, barely touching him.

            He nuzzled into the warmth that had stopped massaging and began poking his nose. An airy giggled came from the surface he was curling his body around. The sound was enough to wake Victor.

            Blinking sleepily and smacking his lips, Victor lifted his head from the pillow swung it around in search for the thing that had been touching him. His eyes landed on a lump covered mostly by blankets that was lying under him. The lump must have been the thing touching him. The lump which was actually a person. The lump was Yuri.

            Victor jerked away, tangling in the thick warm blankets. He twisted, attempting to free himself from the cocoon which had become his prison, only to find himself slipping backwards. He grappled uselessly at the slippery smooth sheets as his bottom fell off the bed, the rest of him following not too far behind.

            He landed on his rear with a thud and the room was silent for a moment. Loud guffaws erupted from Yuri, who was now sitting up in the bed with his arms wrapped around his stomach. His face was a brilliant red and his eyes were glistening with tears of laughter.

            “A-are you okay?” Yuri managed to gasp out.

            Victor pulled himself up by the mattress and stood by the bed, scratching his head in confusion.

            “What… what…” he trailed off, words not coming easily.

            “Nothing happened, not really. You had a bad dream. I came over to check on you— oh yeah, you need a new door by the way— and you were freaking out. All I managed to get out of you was that your dream—” Yuri stopped suddenly as if he couldn’t figure out how to delicately word the situation.

            “Yeah, I—uh — remember.” Victor rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

            “You said something about it being your fault—”

            “Oh, you gave me a speech of how wrong I was, I remember that… but why are you… I don’t mean to be rude, I love having you here, but why _are_ you here?” Victor asked, glad that at least part of his memory had returned.

            “Oh, well… you see… you were really, um, all over the place when I finally got you into bed.” Realizing how that sounded, Yuri flushed. “I mean, got you into your own bed! Like, alone! In your bed, to sleep!”

            Victor let out a huff of laughter, signaling for Yuri to continue.

            “You were— well, I thought you were asleep— but you asked me to stay. I figured you weren’t really all _there_ at the moment, but you wouldn’t calm down until I got in bed. So, I stayed.”

            That simple declaration warmed Victor’s heart. It was a trickling heat that tickled him from head to toe and made him smile dopily.

            “Thank you.” Victor caught Yuri’s eyes. “That’s… no one’s ever done anything like that for me and I… thank you.”

            A light dusting of rose bloomed in Yuri’s cheeks.

            “You don’t have to thank me… I would do it again,” Yuri said, reaching for Victor’s hand.

            He dragged Victor by the hand and pulled him down to the sit on the bed. Victor dropped his face into his free hand, while Yuri squeezed his other one tighter.

            “I’m sorry… it’s just… I’m not— I’m not like this. This isn’t me. I don’t know what’s going on.” Victor let out a shaky, almost hysterical laugh. “I’m not like this, I’m not.”

            “There’s nothing wrong with what you’re going through—” Yuri attempted to smooth and heal the rumpled, raw emotions that spilled from Victor.

            “Do you hear yourself?” Victor interrupted, swinging around and glaring with wet eyes at Yuri.             “You’re the one who’s… who’s… and— are you…? I don’t know, I don’t even know. I saw you and somehow I don’t even know…” Victor trailed off and then a look of sudden comprehension spread on his face. “Are you...?”

            “Am I what?” Yuri asked shakily, yet patiently, running soothing hands across Victor’s arm while attempting to follow Victor’s babbling.

            “Are you… are you, um, suicidal?” Victor whispered quickly, as if the word were forbidden.

            Yuri immediately went rigid and Victor was pretty certain he had stopped breathing.

            “No,” Yuri shook his head. “No.”

            Normally, Victor would have accepted Yuri’s answer, trusting his student to always be honest with him, but when Yuri didn’t stop shaking his head, he felt his belief in Yuri’s answer slipping.

            “Yuri?” Victor asked suspiciously.

            “Yeah?” Yuri’s normally high voice seemed to pitch even farther up the octave.

            “Are you lying to me?” Victor asked bluntly, gripping Yuri’s hand tightly when the other attempted to pull away. “Yuri please.”

            Yuri looked away, his eyes trailing from the wall to the floor to the ceiling to the drawer chest to the door—literally everywhere but Victor.

            “I’m sorry but, you aren’t being very subtle,” Victor said.

            Yuri gave a timid giggle. Nerves jangled, Victor grasped Yuri by the sides of his face, forcing the smaller to look him in the eye.

            “You can tell me,” Victor said, trying to put as much honesty and compassion in his voice as possible

            Yuri’s wide brown eyes began filling with tears. Victor felt his own shoulders slack with guilt.

            “It’s okay,” he whispered as Yuri began gasping for breath, frantically attempting to control his tears.

            Victor’s face contorted into a pained expression and he wrapped his arms tightly around Yuri, tugging him to his chest. Yuri’s labored breathing became sobs and Victor pressed his face into Yuri’s hair.

            “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Victor chanted, his promise laced with love.

            The two sat, the sound of soft breathing lulling them both into a sense of security and unity. Yuri’s occasional sniffle or hiccup, and Victor’s responding murmur were the only audible noises.

            “I’m sorry.”

            The whisper was so soft and shaky that Victor was sure he had imagined it at first. He pulled back to look Yuri in the eyes and make sure he had heard correctly, but Yuri saw the movement as an act of abandonment and clung tighter around Victor’s torso.

            “Calm down, I’m not leaving. I promise. I’ve got you,” Victor shushed, rubbing small circles on Yuri’s back.

            Yuri took a shuddery breath, trying to calm his rapid breathing.

            “I… then, yes. I guess, I kind of… I don’t know… it’s been like this for a while. I never thought about it like that, but I guess… yeah. Maybe,” Yuri said.

            “It’s okay.”

            “No, it’s not okay!” Yuri exclaimed abruptly, jerking back from Victor with an angry look on his red, teary face. “People die every day of things they can’t control and the people they leave behind suffer! They wish their loved one hadn’t died, they wish they could have protected their person and yet here I am—” Yuri’s voice cracked, and he closed his eyes.

            “Here I am,” he said roughly, bringing his voice down in volume. He took in a deep shuddery breath, trying again to explain. “Sitting here wishing that I could… go. So many people went that didn’t deserve to go… so many people heartbroken because someone they love went… but I… I deserve to—I deserve to—I don’t…” Yuri whispered.

            Victor stiffened.

            “You can’t believe that,” Victor said sharply, sounding almost angry.

            Yuri whipped his attention back to his coach like he’d forgotten he was there.

            “Sorry?”

            “There’s no way that you can _honestly_ believe that you don’t deserve to be on this Earth. There is no way you could possibly think that your life is so meaningless that you can just— just _die_ , and leave no trace behind.” Victor gripped Yuri’s arms, giving the boy a firm shake that was borderline painful and rattled Yuri to the bone.

            “Think about what you’re saying! You’re saying that you think no one will miss you when you’re gone, that no one will be affected by your death,” Victor bit out, practically hissing.

            “But nothing _would_ happen!” Yuri shouted back, standing. He wrenched out of his coach’s grasp and stumbled backwards. “Everyone’s lives would be the same!”

            “Maybe the world would keep going and be unaffected on a large scale, but the people who know you would be pretty messed up,” Victor countered viciously, as if trying to physically hit Yuri with his words.

            He couldn’t believe how ridiculous, and oblivious, and _stupid_ his student was.

            “Your parents would be in pieces knowing that their only son had felt so unwanted that he _killed himself_. And that girl that works at the skate rink and taught you how to skate? And her husband? And the triplets? They care about you. You’re that girl’s best friend, those kids look up to you. You’re the only representative of that town that competes worldwide! That means something to the people here! They’re proud of it and they’re proud of you!”

            “Your sister would lose her little brother, who she’s supposed to protect. How do you think she would feel if she found you dead? Worse yet, having killed yourself?”

            Yuri bit his lip, staring at the ground.

            “What about that kid Minami, who’s kind of obsessed with you? Or Christopher, or Phichit—aren’t you close to those guys?” Victor added almost hysterically.

            Yuri yanked himself back out of Victor’s grasp sharply.

            “They’ll move on. They’ll forget I even existed. I barely exist as it is. Do you see what I’m doing with my life? I’m an ice-skater, big whoop. I’m not talented, like you or Yurio! Or expressive like Phichit or confident like J.J. And outside of skating, I’m even less!” Yuri broke off, dragging a shaking hand down his weary face. Before gesturing wildly.

             “People are out curing cancer, saving people from burning buildings, and making amazing things and I’m just an average ice-skater with no future, no talent, no—”

            Victor cut off Yuri’s self-deprecating speech by putting his hand over the other’s mouth. Yuri protested, fingers beginning to claw at his coach’s hand. Victor’s other hand was a bruising grip on Yuri’s hip that effectively held him in place.

            “Don’t say that about yourself!” Victor’s voice was an angry, thunderous, exasperated shout that seemed offended at Yuri’s own hateful words against himself. “You. Are. Not. Average. You are not someone who can be overlooked. You are not leading a meaningless, futureless life, Yuri! Why can’t you see that? You’re special, the way you skate is unreal. You captivate people, you draw them in. You’re a living, breathing, moving art, Yuri.” Victor’s voice became gentle as Yuri’s eyes began to glisten in the sunlight beaming in through the cracked window.

            “And it would be a shame to see that art be destroyed.”

            Yuri stared up at Victor in an awed silence. Victor blushed at his forceful tone and the fact that he was manhandling his closest friend.

            “Sorry,” Victor said. He released his tight grip on Yuri and stared at the floor with hunched shoulders.

            Yuri shook his head, grasping Victor’s hands.

            “You haven’t hurt me,” Yuri told him earnestly, staring down out their intertwining hands.

            Victor relaxed and he smiled down on Yuri’s head, dropping his face into the nest of dark hair. Yuri giggled at the tickling sensation that came from it.

            “I’m glad,” Victor whispered against Yuri’s head.

            Yuri felt his coach’s voice rumble pleasantly against his cheek, which was pressed against Victor’s chest. They sat like that for a few moments, the sunshine adding a comforting heat to the warmth they shared between them.

            “We- we should probably go downstairs,” Yuri mumbled.

            Victor sighed, realizing that Yuri was right. They certainly didn’t want a search party being sent into their room.

            “Fine…” Victor said dejectedly.

Yuri raised his head and shuffled towards the door, dragging Victor by the hand. Victor allowed himself to be dragged down the narrow hallways, his bare feet silent on the dark wooden floors.

            “Good morning, boys!” Yuri’s cheerful mother said with a bright smile once they made it to the kitchen.

            Yuri returned with soft “morning,” albeit drowsily, while Victor exchanged greetings with more enthusiasm. They sat next to each other on the floor, legs folding neatly under themselves. Victor inched closer so their arms touched shoulder to wrist. If she noticed, Yuri’s mother made no move to separate them or demand that they sit properly as she bustled around laying colourful plates full of warm, delicious smelling food on the table.

            “Did you both sleep well?” Yuri’s mother asked, looking honestly concerned.

            “Of course, and yourself?” Victor responded, false grin hiding his panic that Mrs. Katsuki might have heard something of Victor’s nightmare or his and Yuri’s conversation during the night.

            “I slept fine, thank you. I was wondering, though, did you two hear anything strange last night?” Yuri’s mother asked curiously, placing dishes between them.

            Victor and Yuri caught each other’s eye, but quickly parted glances.

            “No, I don’t believe so…” Victor placed a finger on his chin in false pensiveness.

            Yuri, on the other hand, looked down at his lap guiltily, avoiding his mother’s curious stare.

            “It was like someone was crying, I think. Sounded so sad, I almost got up to see what it was, but it stopped suddenly and didn’t start back up.”

            Yuri placed an elbow on the table and turned his head towards Victor, his hand blocking his face from his mother’s view. He gave Victor a look of horror and Victor made a quick shrugging gesture, showing his confusion at what Mrs. Katsuki knew, too.

            “It could have been the wind, or maybe an animal,” Yuri piped up, voice shaking slightly with nerves.

            “Oh, I hope it wasn’t an animal! I would feel horrible if I knew that some poor little thing was being hurt and I did nothing to help!” The woman’s hands went up to cover her mouth in alarm.

            Victor turned sideways, blocking himself from her line of vision again and made a slicing motion about his neck, face terse as he attempted to warn Yuri against any and all speaking. Yuri waved his arms around in frantic apology before stuffing his hands under his legs.

            “I’m sure it was the wind; it kept me up for a while,” Victor lied smoothly, taking a slow sip from his colourful mug as he gave Yuri a meaningful look over the rim.

            “O-oh, yes, I didn’t get a wink last night because of it!” Yuri exclaimed rather cheerfully.

            Victor snorted into his mug, reminding himself to never rely on Yuri when it came to little white lies.

            “You poor dears,” Yuri’s mother cooed sympathetically, patting both boys on the back gently. “Are you going to the rink today?”

            Victor sent a questioning look at Yuri. After everything, he didn’t think Yuri would be up for skating.

            “Absolutely,” Yuri said with a convincing smile.

            “You sure?” Victor asked, receiving a nod from Yuri. “Then… race you to the rink!”

            He made a mad dash towards the door, stuffing his feet into his shoes. Yuri was close behind him, slipping across the floor and landing on his bottom by the shelves of shoes lined up by the door. Victor couldn’t hold back the laugh at Yuri’s dramatic fall. They were up and racing out the door in seconds, Yuri tugging it shut behind him.

            Racing through the beautiful city was the best part of mornings, in Victor’s mind. He loved how bright the sunlight was and how it made everything shine warmly. The sky was a blend of pastels and the fields were sparkling with fresh dew. Birds chirped and sang in the as the wind hushed the whispering streams that rushed over rocks.

            And Yuri was there.

            Yuri’s eyes were lit with the fire of competition, even one as simple as racing to the rink. Yuri had a competitive spirit, but it was masked by self-doubt, anxiety and a rather strong inferiority complex. Whenever the glimmer of determination, the spark of I-will-beat-you-at-your-own-game lit up in Yuri’s eyes, it made Victor was breathless.

            Victor struggled to focus on the race, his thoughts and gaze constantly being drawn to the bright brown eyes that were focused so intently on their path that it was almost comical.

            Yuri’s determination only started cracking when they came to the steps that led up to the rink.

            “Oh, my God… I’m dying. That’s it— I’m dead. I’m dying, I’m dead—” Yuri gasped out, legs becoming clearly shaking.

            Victor found himself ahead of Yuri, almost at the top of the staircase.

            “Yuri, are you… okay?” Victor shouted behind him in between quick shallow breaths.

            “No, didn’t you… hear me? I’m dead.” Yuri was hardly even jogging now.

            Victor laughed at the distressed look on Yuri’s face when he looked up to see Victor far ahead of him.

            “Are… you… kidding me?” Yuri’s voice pitched upwards.

            Victor burst into loud laughter that warmed him from top to bottom. Unable to move, breath and laugh at the same time, Victor sunk onto the cold cement, gripping the life out of the rail attached to the never-ending staircase.

            “Stop laughing… you _jerk!”_ Yuri shouted.

            Yuri’s irritation must have reignited his energy because he began sprinting up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Victor, unable to recover from his laughing fit, fell behind as Yuri bounded right over him and reached the top of the staircase with a shout of triumph.

            He threw his fist in the air and Victor clapped, whistling loudly as Yuri bowed and plopped on the ground with a thud.

            “I won!” Yuri shouted needlessly.

            He dropped onto his back and Victor scuttled up the rest of the stairs in an awkward bear crawl, finally depositing himself beside Yuri.

            “Congratulations,” Victor muttered, eyes closed against the bright sunrays.

            “Let’s go skating,” Yuri said, grabbing Victor’s hand and pulling his lethargic coach up by the arm.

            Victor groaned but allowed himself to be dragged inside the building and pushed onto their bench. 

            The feel of the cool air radiating from the rink, the smell of leather skates, the stillness of the empty space— it was a relief. Victor found himself at home in any ice rink. It didn’t matter where he was, or who he was with, if he had an ice rink, all was right with the world and Victor Nikiforov was home. Yuri and ice, actually. That was home.

            There was a special relationship between Yuri and ice. They complimented each other. On ice, Yuri danced. He sailed and flew with poise, and grace. His eyes were always so full of raw, real emotion that they gleamed in a way that was distracting and intoxicating.

That spell occasionally shattered when Yuri slipped and fell on his rear and a shadow of disappointment flickered across his face. At moments like these, Victor wanted to run out onto the ice and praise him for his efforts.

            “Excited to skate?” Victor asked as Yuri whined at him to hurry and put his skates on.

            “Absolutely, it feels like ages since I’ve been on the ice.”

            “It’s been three days,” Victor said.

            Yuri looked surprised.

            “Th-that’s all? It— it feels like it’s been weeks…”

            “I suppose…” Victor grimaced. “I suppose, compared to what you’ve been through during the past 24 hours, it would seem like a lifetime.”

Yuri looked ready to hurl.

            “I... I didn’t go through… I mean it wasn’t like I had no say…” Yuri trailed off, biting his lip.

            He’s been doing that more often, Victor noticed. He gripped Yuri’s chin with a free hand, using his thumb to ease the boy’s poor lip out from the worrying tooth’s grasp.

            “We will go over this until you understand. You may have done something to yourself, but never believe for a second that this is completely, 100% your own fault. To stop something like that, you need support. Which I didn’t give you. I’m your coach, it’s my job… I’m supposed to….” Victor took in a heaving gust of air and instantly relaxed the moment Yuri’s free hand came to rest on his shoulder.

            “It’s my job to support you,” Victor finished.

            Yuri opened his mouth to say something, but Victor interrupted sharply.

            “And it’s your job as the student to tell me what’s troubling you so we can work it out.”

            “Okay, okay, so you may have a point—” Yuri acknowledged before he was interrupted.

            “May?” Victor drawled; a fair eyebrow raised to the ceiling.

            “Alright! I just… I guess I just didn’t realize… it was a… problem.” Yuri’s voice slowly lost its confidence as he eyed an increasingly distressed Victor.

            “You hurting yourself is always considered a problem,” Victor stated. “But it’s okay, because I know now. I’m here to work you through it.”

            “I know I’m in good hands,” Yuri responded honestly.

            “Okay, enough of that for now. What we both need is a little bit of skating.” Victor bent down and began tying the laces of Yuri’s shoes. “Now, get out there and show me that you remember your routine. Just stay focused, but most of all—” Victor leaned so close that his forehead was brushing Yuri’s. “Eyes. Use them.”

            “Yes, coach,” Yuri whispered, booping his nose against Victor’s before spinning and dancing in circles away while Victor leaned against the rink’s wall.

            Yuri always fit right in time with his music, like the tune was created just for him. But without music— no, there was always music when Yuri skated. Yuri created the music.

            Sassy winks and suggestive smirks were feisty, playful trills and rifts that jolted Victor’s heart. Scrapes of the skates on the ice were the swinging beats and hip swivels and delicate arm movements were graceful high notes that sent chills down Victor’s back.

            Yuri made some mistakes but seemed to still have a good handle on the routine. At the end, Victor clapped loudly and whistled in appreciation. And like that, Yuri was back to the awkward, innocent student with a bashful grin.

            “I think yesterday was an important development,” Yuri stated matter of factly. “I think it helped, actually. You helped. With my skating… I felt different. I felt— I felt free.” Yuri was heaving with labored breaths, but his eyes sparkled with life and his cheeks glowed with colour.  He looked better.

            “Victor?” Victor snapped to attention at the familiar voice. Yuri must have noticed Victor’s momentary leave of focus because the younger boy was leaning against the rink’s walls, eyeing Victor closely.

            “Yes, dearest student?” Victor fluttered his lashes, making Yuri blush and laugh.

            “You just looked a little… lost there for a second,” Yuri whispered mildly.

Victor grinned, reaching out to pat Yuri’s head affectionately, but Yuri ducked out of the way. He grabbed Victor’s hand like a viper snatching its prey and used the hand to pull himself close enough to Victor that he could see the smile lines— frown lines — _stress_ lines— around Victor’s bright eyes.

            “Calm down, I’m fine,” Victor scoffed, attempting to pull back.

The grip on his hand moved to the back of his head where nimble fingers snagged silvery white locks. His head was yanked back into position in front of Yuri.

            “Hey, what—” Victor began, but was cut off.

            “What’s wrong with you today? You seem off,” Yuri announced with surprising assertiveness.

            “I— wha—no, I’m good, I’m good,” Victor stuttered. He still felt oddly disconnected and unsure from last night, which was irritating beyond belief, but it wasn’t anything to worry about.

            “You’re acting… strange,” Yuri pointed out cautiously, as if afraid of saying the wrong thing.

            “I’m not acting strange, you’re just reading too far into things,” Victor muttered, dragging a hand down the side of his face, exhaustion joining the mess of emotions that Victor attempted to sift through.

            “No, I don’t think so. There’s something wrong with you,” Yuri said, voice a little stronger.

            Victor glared at him, wrenching himself free of his friend’s grasp.

            “You’re looking too far into things. Nothing’s wrong,” Victor’s voice held a tone of finality, but Yuri overlooked it.

            “Hey, get back here—” Yuri reached out, grabbing Victor by the front of the shirt, only to be snapped at.

            “Lay off Yuri!” Victor’s voice boomed and echoed in the otherwise silent, empty building. “There’s nothing wrong, mind your own business.”

            “I could say the same about you!” Yuri shouted back, sounding rightfully offended. He shoved Victor away, sending himself skating backwards with the force of his pushing Victor.

            “And what do you mean by that?” Victor demanded.

            Yuri scoffed and turned his back to Victor.

            “I don’t know, like, you barged in my home—”

            “—your home is a hot springs, which is technically a public place—”

            “—and broke down my bathroom door—”

            “—I don’t remember doing that—”

            “— and start yelling at me and stopping me from doing things I do in the privacy of—”

            “— _privacy_ —” Victor turned in a circle, a hand clenching his cocked hip and another clutching at his hair. “You were _cutting_ yourself.” Victor stated darkly.

            Yuri flinched.

            “Oh, you don’t like that word?” he asked, his voice sickeningly sweet. “How about a nicer term, maybe… self-harming?”

            Another flinch.

            “Or maybe we’ll call it what it is— mutilation?”

            Flinch.

            “Or—”

            “Alright, I get it! I owe you my life and I should to be grateful that you barged in, broke my door— which you remember doing, don’t you deny it— so that you can mock me and ridicule me and be a general a—” Yuri was cut off when his coach barreled into him and clutched him close, attempting to keep as much of their bodies touching as possible.

            Yuri jerked for a few seconds to free himself, but eventually sagged into the embrace. It felt like the world just fell of its axis.

            “Um, Victor?”

            “Yes, Yuri?” the angry, accusatory shouting had become a gentle, soft voice usually reserved for handling injured animals and scared children.

            “Weren’t you just… ah, weren’t you, uh, we were… we were arguing?”

            “Yeah. Let’s not do that, anymore.”

            Yuri was tempted to agree and just bask in hug, but remembering the content of the argument shattered the comfort Victor was radiating.

            “But, Victor, really, I think—”

            “Let’s not argue. Let’s just—”

            “Victor. I’m scared,” Yuri mustered the most vulnerable, young sounding voice that he could. It was, to his dismay, hardly the most difficult thing he’d ever done.

            He looked up at Victor and made himself seem as small as possible, hunching his shoulders and hugging himself. He even jutted out his bottom lip and let his eyes shine brightly with unshed tears. Yuri was well learned how to milk it with his coach.

            “Scared? Scared of what? What are you scared of? I’ve got you, don’t worry,” Victor whispered soothingly, gently petting Yuri’s head.

            “I’m scared that you’re s-sick.”

            “Sick?” Victor seemed a little confused.

            “Sick, like me,” Yuri whispered. The strong arms around him tightened.

            “Yuri, you aren’t sick. You’re just… struggling. It doesn’t make you sick, or crazy, or anything. It makes you human. A lot of people go through this sort of thing,” Victor slyly avoided the real issue at hand.

            “Victor, please,” Yuri begged, making sure to force his voice to tremble slightly. “Please. What’s wrong?”

            Victor sighed, dropping his head onto Yuri’s shoulder.

            “Nothing. I’m just tired. I’m worried and stressed and irritated. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just feel like any moment…” Victor slid his hands down Yuri’s arm.

            “Like any moment… I’ll do it again?” Yuri finished for him understandingly.

            “I don’t think you’re crazy or anything, I just think that…. I read up on it— your condition.”

            Yuri grinned, looking touched. Victor blushed, not feeling any bit the bold bachelor of the Russian skating world that he was.

            “I read that after someone finds out about what you’re— er, _doing_ … that you might, I don’t know, do it again. It’s like you could panic. You’re on edge because you’re worried about what people might think about you, what they might do to you, or say, and the more stressed you are, the higher the likelihood that you… do it again. And you could go too deep on accident. Or purpose,” Victor explained carefully.

            “I… I see.” Yuri fell silent for a moment, looking as if he were weighing a heavy decision. “I promise to come to you if there’s anything… bothering me. I’ll do my best to stop. My best. I promise.”

            Yuri sounded like it physically pained him to make such a promise. That only made Victor prouder.

            “Thank you,” Victor said with relief. “Thank you.”

            “You know, I read up on my—er, _condition_ , too,” Yuri stated mater of factly, still hugging, or rather being hugged, by Victor.

            “Oh? And what did you find out?” Victor asked curiously, anxious about where this conversation was going to, and only hoping it wasn’t somehow going down the twisting road of “let’s break up.”

            “I found out that you can catch—well you can’t exactly ‘c-catch’ er—depression, if that’s what this is— by literal means, but this one site I found said that you can be influenced by it. It’s like your thoughts and actions start to mimic your depressed friend’s thoughts and actions. That sort of thing. I-I think it’s like sympathy pain, you know when someone gets punched in the face, you rub your face.”

            Victor squinted down at Yuri.

            “You mean…?”

            “I mean, I think my… _thing_ has been affecting you.”

            “You think you’re making me depressed,” Victor clarified, voice rather flat.

            “Well, yes.”

            In response of Victor’s suddenly sky-high eyebrows, Yuri rushed to correct himself.

            “I mean, I don’t think you’re depressed, just that… well… we both know how well you can read a room. And I know you’re reading my emotions and actions and you’re trying to keep from upsetting me. I think you’re trying to put yourself in my shoes, but you’re trying so hard, it’s starting to affect you and make you feel the same way as I do. I think. Maybe”

            “You think I’m, forcing myself into your shoes.”

            “I-I guess, yeah.”

            “It sounds believable, but I really don’t think that I have that. Sympathy depression or whatever it is. I only just realized you’re… well, depressed yesterday.”

            “That doesn’t mean that you haven’t subconsciously picked up on my emotions.”

“That’s… oddly intuitive of you,” Victor commented. “But I think I’m just getting used to knowing, um, what you have.”

            They sat in companionable silence for a moment.

            “We’re a mess,” Yuri laughed shakily. “You know, I always thought you were put together. Confident and ready for anything. You had everything under control.”

            “Why in the world would you think that?” Victor asked incredulously.

            “Well, to start with, you’re successful. In everything. Skating, coaching, handling people— and you hold yourself proudly. You stand up straight with a fierce look in your eye like there’s no way anything can do anything to hurt you or tear you down.” Yuri shrugged. “That’s confidence.”

            “Confidence is talking to people, standing up straight,t and skating well?” Victor asked.

            “I guess so. Those are the major differences between us. Well besides our families, birth countries, native language, culture and eating habits,” Yuri said with a shrug.

            “To tell you the truth,” Victor laughed softly. “To tell you the truth, I never feel in control or together.”

            “You? Not having it together? In what universe?”

            “What do you mean?” Victor asked, leaning back from their hug.

            “I’ve just… I’ve just never seen you lose it. I’ve never seen you looking anything other than confident, but you’ve seen me panicked, and stressed and I guess it’s just intimidating because I’ve never seen you like that,” Yuri said like it was obvious.

            “Any time it seems like I’m under control on the outside, I’m probably struggling to keep it together on the inside,” Victor said.

            “No way,” Yuri denied skeptically.

            Victor nodded, almost ashamed.

            “I wouldn’t go as far as saying I have a serious problem, but I’d definitely say it’s a struggle.”

            “A struggle?” Yuri sounded unconvinced.

            “A lot depends on me. It gets to be a little much sometimes. It’s no big deal. I just build up my self-control and keep my focus on what I’m doing.”

            Yuri eyed Victor closely, like he was trying to decipher a puzzle or read his mind. After a moment, he grinned and spoke up.

            “Victor, skate with me,” Yuri demanded

            “What?” he asked, momentarily jolted by the sudden request.

            “Skate with me.”

            Yuri grabbed Victor’s hands and dragged him onto the ice, where they skated for hours more.

 

~.~

 

            After they got back to Yuri’s home, the Victor and Yuri each took a quick shower and deposited their dirty clothes in the laundry room. Yuri spent a bit longer basking under the warm spray of his shower, and only got out because he heard his name being called from downstairs. He quickly dried off and got dressed, throwing his dirty towel into the bin by the door.

            He padded down the hall and into the kitchen wondering why it was so silent all of the sudden. He was absolutely certain someone had called his name. Shrugging, Yuri stretched his arms as high as he could as he entered the kitchen, walking straight up to the fridge. He paused halfway, noticing that his entire family was seated at the table with a few cups of tea and big tea pot between them. Victor was standing in front of the table, looking rather shell-shocked.

            “I’m so sorry, Yuri! I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t! It was an accident, I swea—”

            “Victor, what in the world are you talking about?” Yuri demanded; a bit shaken at seeing his coach look so frightened. “Are you okay?”

            “Victor, honey, why don’t you give us a second?” Yuri’s mother asked kindly.

            “Please, don’t make me go—” Victor looked so desperate.

            He was acting as if he was being sent away forever when he was just being asked to go to another room. Oddly disturbed, Yuri butted in anxiously.

            “Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Yuri asked, but his voice was covered by his family arguing.

            “Victor, please—” Yuri’s mother was interrupted by his father’s deep voice.

            “If he wants to stay, it’s fine. We can do this either way.”

            “Do what?” Yuri asked.

            “This is a family matter, Victor belongs here. He’s family!” Mari protested, ignoring him.

             “Mari, please,” his mother pleaded. “Victor really—”

             “Hello? I’m still here— is anyone even listening?” Yuri asked, receiving no answer.

            “Victor is a part of this family— aren’t you, Victor?” Mari turned to Victor, her hands on her hips.

            “Mari, you know what I mean. Victor is a dear friend. But this is a family discussion.”

            “I have a tattoo of a naked lady on my bum,” Yuri announced, going unheard again.

            “Why is he not family? Why? After everything he’s done for us? And Yuri?” Mari demanded.

            “I roll weed on the weekends in the kitchen and sell it to my druggie friends who vandalize libraries and terrorize children,” Yuri said evenly, still not getting a response.

            To his credit, Victor heard, if the stare he fixed Yuri with was anything to go by. Then again, he looked away pretty quickly, so maybe he hadn’t actually heard.

            “Mari, please. I just— this is going to be hard enough to deal with as a family, bringing in other people will make it even harder,” Yuri’s mother said calmly.

             “So, the solution is to hide Yuri’s problems from his friends?” Mari gesticulated so violently that she smacked Victor in the face.

            “I’m going to marry my ice skates and run away to Jamaica.”

            Victor’s confused stare intensified, but Yuri also almost got a grin out of him.

            “We need to get a handle on this before we let the public know—” his mother attempted to explain in a patient voice.

            “The _public_? We’re not splashing our personal lives across the covers of newspapers or selling the information to TV news channels. We’re talking about his _friends,”_ Mari said firmly.

            “Who will tell their families, who will tell their friends, who will tell their families— these kinds of things travel fast.”

            Their mother had a good point, Yuri had to admit.

            “We can’t just block out his friends!” Mari slapped her hands on the table, making the dishes rattle.

            “I’m really running out of content; can we hurry this along?” Yuri requested, still being ignored.

            “We have to protect him—”

            While his mother and sister continued to argue, Yuri slowly began to collect what was going on.       His worst fears were confirmed when his father turned to him with a grave expression and asked a single question. The worst question.

            “Why are you cutting yourself Yuri?”

            It was silent for the first time in the Katsuki household.


	4. Cliffs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Yuri!!! On Ice.  
> This is the first half of my interpretation of a few ideas from Shiranai Atsune. This is for you, I hope it’s what you were expecting!  
> Also, in this story, I’m trying to portray believable reactions from a family that discovers they have a child with depression and who hurts themself. I don’t know if I’m doing very well, so if anyone has real experience with this situation and you feel comfortable sharing, let me know what I can do to make it more real. I’m also trying to make Yuri reacting to Victor and his family but also his own depression seem real, too. If any of you suffer from the problems he does and you feel comfortable with telling a stranger, feel free to tell me ways to make this part more accurate, too. No pressure, I’m open minded and non-judgmental!  
> I love you all! Keep commenting and kudo-ing and such, you know I love hearing from you!

**AN:**

**In this story, I’m trying to portray believable reactions from a family that discovers they have a child with depression and cutting type issues. I don’t know if I’m doing very well, so if anyone has real experience with this situation and you feel comfortable sharing, let me know what I can do to make it more real. Also, I’m trying to make Yuri reacting to Victor and his family but also his own depression seem real, too. If any of you suffer from the problems he does and you feel comfortable with telling a stranger, feel free to tell me some of your experiences so I can make Yuri a bit more realistic. No pressure. I’m open minded and non-judgmental!**

**I love you all! Keep commenting and kudo-ing and such, you know I love hearing from you!**

CH4- Cliffs

            The sun was a soft golden glow against the rose-painted sky. Tiny silver stars extinguished one by one and the moon slowly began to fade, letting the sun take over. The air was humid and warm with recent rain. Dew sparkled across the bright flowers growing in fields, and small puddles decorated the concrete sidewalks, shimmering and rippling as pedestrians or vehicles passed by.

            Everything was peaceful and ordinary. The little girl in a pink stripped jumper sold roses from a bundle in a wicker basket, a bright smile across her freckled face. A few elderly gentlemen sipped tea as they read newspapers on benches under tall trees and joggers with slicked back hair and tight jogging suits sped by. Workers began their early commute, coffee in one hand and the wheel of their car in the other. Ordinary and peaceful. Just another day.

            Just another typical day for everyone except one Katsuki Yuri whose life seemed to be fracturing by the second and falling apart piece by piece, crumbling into something more akin to ashes every day.

            Yuri stamped violently into a particularly large puddle, relishing in both the sharp splashing sound and the frigid liquid that seeped through his black jogging pants, stinging his already cold skin. He imagined that his pounding feet were not just slamming into the cold puddles and on cracked sidewalks that wound through the bustling cities of his cheerful hometown. Instead, he was demolishing words— ones that pricked and burned. He was crushing the life out of the heavy feelings and overpowering thoughts that made him feel small, like he hardly existed.

            When he ran, Yuri built his anger up to released it. He built his anger like it was a huge, majestic sand castle at the lip of a frothy white shore. Tiny seeds of loss and sandy bits of rage packed together by the chilling waters of the endless ocean made a towering and angry beast of a castle. Then he let it melt under the weight of the waves.

            Yuri jerked to a halt suddenly, earning confused looks from people trying to make their way around him. Yuri ignored them. His legs shook with the effort to hold him upright, the adrenaline coursing through his veins slowed, his ragged heartbeat came to a steadier pulse and just like that— all was well.

            The coursing winds froze. The near violent, raging anger faded. The out-of-control, isolated spell was over. And the castle was melted. That was the power of a good, hard run at five in the morning.

            Yuri began the light jog home, his pace much more even. He needed to calm his rumpled, distressed exterior before returning home, lest he be attacked by his family who would demand to know what he did.

            What he did.

            Not what happened to him.

            Not where he was.

            What he did.

            Yuri shook himself, trying to refocus on positive things to get himself back into a presentable mood for his parents. If they saw him brooding and upset, they would panic. He thought of things he saw daily.

            Soothing images of the people he passed on his runs played through his head, fruit trees with bursting colour zoomed just under his eyelids with the image of a sleepy hot springs. He focused on his home.  He imagined walking into the familiar front room and hearing sizzling and popping of a pan, the smell of eggs dancing through the air. He would kick off his shoes and push them against the wall, following his senses through the house.

            He imagined seeing his mother flitting about the kitchen cooking this and mixing that as she created a big meal for her family. He imagined seeing his dad sitting at the table, already sipping from a clunky mug as he chattered on about the weather and what he was planning to do that day. He imagined both his parents turning their faces to him and smiling as if he were the sun and the moon. Mari would lazily shuffle in and shoot a snarky comment to her brother, ruffling his hair roughly to tell him that she was just joking. He imagined Victor—

            Yuri stopped abruptly.

            He couldn’t breathe.

            Reaching out sluggishly, Yuri gripped the rusty metal rail that stretched across the top of the concrete wall lining the overpass. Bowing his head, Yuri stared down at his free hand, which balled tensely. He took a deep, shuddering breath and counted the seconds before letting it out.

            Slowly, he relaxed his strangling grip on the rail and unclenched his reddening fist. Standing upright again, Yuri turned around, as if he had planned to, and began running in the opposite direction of the hot springs. He didn’t want to go home. He wanted to be anywhere but home. Home wasn’t family breakfasts, and smiling mothers, and chatty fathers, and teasing sisters. Home was war.

            Tensions had been running high in the Katsuki household ever since Victor let it slip about Yuri’s little… _issue_. Yuri’s parents were very conflicted with how to react to their son’s problem.

            Sometimes the way Yuri’s parents acted was unnerving and left Yuri feeling out of place and uncomfortable. They treated him like an infant with ridiculous rules and restrictions. They were constantly watching Yuri’s every movement like cops watching a suspect to a murder case. They even stood outside the bathroom, listening in on him in case he punched a mirror and used the glass to hurt himself or something.

            They also baby-proofed their home.

            Yuri’s father put rubber bits on sharp corners of chairs, counters, fireplaces, and his mother changed the curtain rods above the windows because they originally had fancy points at the ends that could somehow be used to awkwardly mangled oneself. Locks were taken off the doors— Yuri’s _door_ was taken off, which was the most embarrassing thing.

            No, the most embarrassing thing was when Yuri’s parents took all the sharp things and locked them in their room: kitchen knives, knitting needles, nail clippers, even chopsticks. Mari had to go to her parents every morning to get her razor whenever she needed to shave and both Yuri and Victor had to collect their ice skates from his parents because the blades of the shoes posed a “threat.”

            Yuri’s parents also practically— _literally_ — dragged Yuri into therapy to talk about his “issues” with an elderly gentleman who obviously thought that Yuri was a posing, overdramatic hypochondriac.

            Yuri found it funny how people seemed to think he had issues to deal with. He didn’t. He had very few, actually, and that was what unsettled him the most. The fact that he felt so deeply alone and misplaced and unhappy, yet he had nothing to blame it on. He had no idea what was wrong with him.

            The second disturbing behavior Yuri’s parents displayed was quite painful to watch, but was also morbidly comic. Sometimes, he would find his parents to be besides themselves with grief, often found sitting together on the sofa, huddled with some object from Yuri’s childhood in their hands. The objects ranged from his old baby clothes to teddy bears to bottles. If Yuri walked in, they would pretend not to see him and continued on crying, seeming to see right through him.

            It was very disturbing.

            At one point, Yuri had made the mistake of speaking up and asking what was wrong. That only got a long, drawn out wail from his mother and a request from his father that he leave the room. Yuri knew his parents weren’t angry with him when they acted in this way. Yuri understood that he had scared them awfully and that they were trying their hardest to cope. Despite his understanding and his best efforts to not take anything his grieving parents did or said too personally, Yuri’s heart still felt heavy and cold.  However, there was one special person who could warm him.

            Mari. His older sister. She was his safe-haven.

            After his “little secret” had come out and everything had gone crazy, Yuri hid from the sobbing, worried, sympathetic faces of his parents by locking himself inside his bedroom (before the door was taken off its hinges, that is). Every day, Mari would come and bang on the door, demanding that he open up. When he finally did, she would have an excuse to have come over.

            One time, she complained that his room stunk clear across the house and that he needed to clean it. They spent three hours together organizing and scrubbing every bit of the room. Yuri felt oddly better after that.

            Another time she came looking for change to go down to the ice cream truck, seeming to be not at all uncomfortable with how silly her demand was. Good thing Mari left her dignity behind when her brother’s secret came out. She invited him along and they walked through the streets together, laughing and catching their dripping ice cream cones with their tongues, but mostly with their faces. When they got home as the sunset burned a fiery red behind them, their faces and hands were as sticky as their treats and their smiles were just as sweet.

            Eventually, Yuri would start seeking refuge in Mari’s room, going to her before she could go to him. He found his sister to be a calming, natural presence that didn’t force answers from him or seem to be waiting for him to crack. The pair would lounge across Mari’s bed or sprawl out on the floor, flipping through magazines of skaters, and fashion.

            Other times they’d listen to music on the highest volume, shouting the lyrics at the top of their lungs and doing silly dances. They’d watch scary movies and make fun of each other when they jumped out of fright, or they’d laugh explosively through comedies, or make fun of cliché, sappy dramas.

            Sometimes, they would lie on their backs and talk about everything from what makes the sky blue to how long it would take to swim to Spain. They even went skating a few times, which turned out to be the funnest disaster in history. Mari was terrible at skating. But she seemed to honestly enjoy learning from Yuri and seeing him skate, and Yuri basked in the awe and compliments she gave him. But skating reminded Yuri of Victor.

            Yuri hated thinking about Victor, seeing Victor, hearing his voice or talking about anything remotely related to Victor. This was mostly because Yuri was conflicted. Victor finding out about Yuri’s “little problem” was supposed to help. Victor was supposed to be lifting Yuri up and being there for him. And that’s how things were, for a while. Things were good, things were okay. Until Victor spilled the beans.

            The worst part was that he didn’t just spill the beans. No, he threw them. He set them on fire. He delivered them by hand to every person Yuri wanted to keep the secret from. And Yuri wanted to hate him for it. He really did. He wanted to hate the charismatic, ingenious, honest, talented, loving, kicked-puppy-looking man he called his idol, but he couldn’t.

            You just can’t hate a man like Victor. You try to be angry at someone like that, but it doesn’t work. You try to despise someone like that, but you can’t. You settle on being annoyed, irritated but deep down you feel something stronger. You settle on ignoring them because their very presence confuses the ever-loving ice skates out of you and what really kills you is that fact that— for some reason, even though you’re technically the victim— you feel guilty, like _you’re_ the villain.

            Yuri just wanted to go back to before any of this happened. When things were simpler. Back before Victor told Yuri’s secret. Back when things weren’t complicated and difficult. Before things became so foggy and obscured. Back before Yuri started to solve his dark and twisty feelings by carving them into his skin. Before things had become even less okay as time went on, before he developed a morbid addiction to what he used to do only on occasion.

            For the longest time, Yuri had been able to hide it from people behind a safe door, but his safe door was broken down and he was forced headfirst into a world of change. A world where his carving was wrong, and a silver-haired skating coach was teaching him how to stop. And then everything was okay again. Until it wasn’t. Because life happened. Life happened, and everything changed suddenly.

            Yuri snapped back to reality and shook off his pity party. He hated this. When his mind was a confusing mush of scrambled thoughts that tangled like a web. Yuri took in a refreshingly cool burst of air and let out forcefully, as if expelling dark thoughts with it. He glanced around the city he stood in the center of, feeling slightly lost. The speeding cars and buses whizzed past, jogging moms pushing strollers of babies, the tall buildings loomed over the world like giants.

            An epiphany struck like a lightning bolt, illuminating and dramatic: Yuri _always_ ran here.

            Always.

            As in every day.

            Every run.

            He always took the same path. Not because he was told to, but because it had never occurred to him to change. He could change his path, though. He could. There was no one here to stop him. And that just might be why he went another way this time. It just might be why when Yuri saw a small clearing in the tall grasses and trees on the edge of the road that he hadn’t seen before, he took it.

            It was made of dirt, it was surrounded and partially obscured by tall grasses and towering trees, and it was _amazing_.

            Yuri noticed the difference between running on concrete and running on dirt very quickly, and he was almost 100% positive that he preferred to run on dirt. He also 100% sure that he had a dust allergy. His clogged sinuses were screaming. Despite his troubles with breathing while running on a dusty trail, he found the new path to have many positives.

            For example, it was much softer and smelled sweeter than the hard, musty concrete he usually ran on. He felt as if he was floating, as if the path was springing back and rocketing him forwards at every step he took. Dust clouds kicked up behind him and his shoes crunched on bits of gravel that were buried into the otherwise smooth path, making a soothing steady sound.

            The path looked a worn, as if it was once very well-used. That being said, the weeds that tangled over and completely hid some areas of the path hinted that the small dirt road had been forgotten over time. Yuri couldn’t imagine why someone wouldn’t want to come down this way. How someone could forget such a place.

            There were brightly coloured, oddly shaped wildflowers crawling close to the edge of the path, and tall trees cast cool shade with wide, leafy canopies where uniquely patterned birds flitted through, whistling melodically. Yuri was absolutely over the moon with this hidden, beautiful, strange new world.

            His muddled mind became clearer and lighter the more he ran. He felt a sudden new energy flowing through him, as if the forest had some sort of power that made him run. And when his feet meet nothing but air and the sky suddenly became much farther away, Yuri learned just how little power the forest actually had.

 

~

 

            Victor was not pouting.

            He was not.

            He was not hiding away in his bedroom, gloomily petting his dog as he glared impatiently at his phone.

            He was not replaying the conversation in his head, changing each move, each voice, each word to find a better outcome. It just wasn’t happening.

            “I was just trying to _help_ him. I didn’t even mean to tell his parents to start with!” Victor threw a hand in the air dramatically. “I apologized, I tried to explain that it was an accident, and now I’m being punished. You hear me, Makkachin? Punished! Chastised! Ignored! Put in the dog house! For trying to help, but accidentally making everything… much… much worse.” Victor stilled, shoulders slumping as his temper tantrum became a guilty conscience. “And I messed everything up. I ruined _everything_.”

            A silence creeped through the spacious room. The guilty spell didn’t last long.

            “But it wasn’t my fault!”

            Makkachin, annoyed by Victor’s exclamations, pulled away from his owner and leapt off the bed. He stalked to the door and nosed it open, escaping the room and ignoring Victor’s pleas to come back. Victor leapt off his bed to shut his door moodily, muttering under his breath about Makkachin’s betrayal. He flopped sideways across his bed, wrinkled sheets spilling onto his cluttered floor.

            It was silent, probably because Yuri wasn’t there. The hot springs was full of energy and noise any time Yuri was there— but that might just be because Victor never experienced the hot springs without Yuri there. He and Yuri were sewn at the hip, shackled by the wrists, tied by the pinkies. And suddenly they had been ripped apart, unlocked, stitches plucked.

            Without Yuri, it was quiet. Too quiet. It might have been peaceful, had Victor not been so restless and agitated. It might have been a calm atmosphere for a restful nap or a soothing stroll or to just _be_. But it made Victor’s skin crawl and it left him suffocating with a horrible, un-nameable feeling inside.

            The silence was shattered with a gentle rapping. Someone was knocking on Victor’s door. Victor froze and stared at his bedroom door. For half a second, he thought it was Yuri, but Yuri would either burst in with enthusiasm or he would knock timidly, like he was afraid to interrupt. Victor was about to get up and answer the door, but a glance around his room stopped him in his tracks.

            His bedroom was trashed.  

            Books were stacked in messy piles, and a wastebasket was tipped over, letting wrappers and paper spill onto the floor to mingle with the clothes that were strewn across the room with pairs of shoes and old skates tossed in. Pencils and skating routine plans were piled up high on the desk, the desk lamp lying somewhere on the ground where it had fallen a while ago. Trinkets and baubles littered the shelves haphazardly, as did the boxes on the floor that he had not yet unpacked from his move in.

            Normally Victor was quite neat. It just so happened to be that, lately, he had other things on his mind than keeping his room tidy. The rapping got a little louder. Victor lurched out of bed, feeling rattled.

            “Ah— uh, just a minute!” Victor stumbled awkwardly across his room.

            He kicked piles of clothes to the bed, lifting the long blankets to get his clothing underneath.

              “Victor?”

            It was Yuri’s mom. If it had been anyone else— Yuri, Yuri’s sister, Yuri’s father, Yurio— literally anyone else, Victor wouldn’t have been in such a panic. He’d feel bad if she found out he wasn’t taking care of the room she’d given him to stay in. It was just messy, though. That wasn’t a crime— was it?

            Working faster, Victor leapt over the bed towards the closet where he began tossing shoes and skates and boxes.

              “Victor, are you okay?” the soft voice asked from behind the door.

            Victor slammed the closet door shut and ran over to the desk, scrabbling around with papers, and pens, and erasers, and meaningless gadgets and trinkets until they fit into the large desk drawer.

              “I’m fine, I’m just… changing!” Victor announced over his shoulder.

            He kicked several bulky bags of skating costumes behind the bedroom door. His foot caught in one of the many bag straps, causing him to face plant loudly onto the unforgiving hard-wood floor. He gave the bags one last push to the wall before scrambling up, swiping a quick hand through his hair to smooth it before he yanked the door open.

              “Hi, Mrs. Katsuki!” Victor exclaimed with an overly cheerful voice that had a hint of breathlessness due to his speed cleaning.

            He barely cracked the door, blocking the woman’s view of his room with his body by leaning against the door frame to mimic what he thought was a casual stance. He tossed a glance over his shoulder, double-checking the allusion of cleanliness and organization he hastily created for his room.

              “Are you okay? You look a bit sick. Are you sleeping well? You haven’t been eating much, but then again none of us are, really. I suppose no one has much of an appetite since, well...” Yuri’s mother trailed off awkwardly.

            Victor bit his lip at the reminder. Mrs. Katsuki shook her head and reached up with both hands to pat and pull at Victor’s face as if examining him for illness or injury.

            “You really ought to take care of yourself better, despite everything.”

            “Oh, I’m—”

            “Please, Victor. I’ve raised two children, one of which who loves to hide things from his mother—” the poor woman broke off.

            Victor shifted awkwardly, not knowing quite how to comfort his friend’s mother. Mrs. Katsuki suddenly grinned with false brightness, as if the lull of conversation hadn’t happened.

            “Come to think of it,” she continued. “You’ve actually been looking poorly since you and Yuri had your falling out. Have you two talked recently?”

            “Mrs. Katsuki, please. Everything is fine,” Victor said kindly, stepping slightly out of her grasp. “Now, if there’s nothing you needed to speak with me about—” Victor began to slink back into his room, but Mrs. Katsuki reached out and grasped his arm.

            “Look at me rambling on like this, I wanted to ask if you’ve seen Yuri recently. He hasn’t come back from his run— I knew it was a bad idea to let him go alone. It’s nearing ten, he should have been back hours ago.” Mrs. Katsuki began wringing her hands.

            “Actually, no,” Victor admitted softly. “We don’t talk much.”

            He and Yuri didn’t talk. At all. Yuri hardly even glanced Victor’s way anymore. Still, he couldn’t help but feel apprehensive, his stomach churning and burning as if he had swallowed acid.

            “Has he ever been late before?” Victor asked cautiously.

            “No, he always sticks to the same schedule.”

            “What if he just lost track of time?” Victor suggested, trying to calm the woman down despite the fact that his mind was racing in circles. “Or maybe he needed some extra time alone. He hasn’t had much of that lately. Time alone.” Victor hinted gently.

            “But the last time he was alone…” She started. “I just couldn’t bear for that to happen again. He could seriously hurt himself. We might not find him for in time if… what if…”

            “I understand,” Victor said softly. “Believe me.”

            Mrs. Katsuki suddenly looked ashamed, as if she had something to be guilty about.

            “Oh, I’m sorry dear, it’s not your fault,” Mrs. Katsuki said quickly, grabbing Victor’s hands into her own. “You’re dealing with… all of this, as well, I’m sorry I was so insensitive.”

            “Don’t worry about me, I’ll pull through. It’s you and Yuri that I’m worried about,” Victor said honestly, remorse colouring his tone.

            “You’re so sweet,” Mrs. Katsuki said with a warm smile. “I’ll give him one more ring and, if he doesn’t answer, I’ll go out and search for him myself. I’ll call a full-on search party if I have to!”

              “Why don’t I run through his route and see if I can’t catch up to him?” Victor offered, not wanting the already busy woman to have to do even more work and exhaust herself further.

            The simple act of kindness earned him a joyous crow and a big hug.

              Victor couldn’t remember the last time he had been hugged by like this. Warm arms squeezed him with a fierce gentleness, they made him feel secure. Loved, even. It was strange, but good at the same time. Victor blinked and snapped back to the present, blushing at how much a hug affected him.

              “You are such a dear, thank you so much! I’ll go make both of you something sweet for when you return!”

            And with that, Mrs. Katsuki trotted away, practically sparkling with cheer. Victor blinked, momentarily stunned, before a big smile almost split his face.

              He loved this family.

              Shaking off the warm and fuzzies, Victor stepped out into the hall, pulling his door shut behind him. The small moment of joy had long melted off. He attempted a smile, knowing that the habitants of the hot springs would be a little put off if the famous, sparkling Victor Nikiforov was walking around the place looking like a kicked puppy.

            When he made it to the kitchen, he grabbed his shoes from where they sat by the door. He tugged them on and lethargically tied the strings into something that resembled more of a knot than a bow. He pulled on his light jacket, struggling a bit with the zipper that got caught in the dark blue fabric. He finally did make it out the door to face the 1000-step staircase that traveled all the way down the hill that the hot springs sat on top of like a cherry on an ice cream.

            “The things I do for the people I love,” he muttered for himself, thinking of Yuri’s smile.

              He knew Yuri would not appreciate an ambush from his parents while he was out running, which was the only thing he was allowed to do outside of parental supervision.

            Victor could tell it was driving Yuri crazy to follow all his parents’ rules. Victor could also tell that Yuri was close to cracking. It was agonizing to watch, and he had no idea how to fix it. He knew telling Yuri’s parents about his little secret was bad, but he never knew that Yuri would stop looking in his direction and would ignore Victor’s attempts to apologize or start a conversation. He never knew that Yuri would stop confiding in him and he also didn’t know that Yuri ignoring him would hurt so much. He had to set things right. Not just for himself, but for Yuri and the Katsuki family as well. He had to.

 

~

Blinding. Bright, and white, and blinding. Light? Must be. Feathery things. Green feathery things. Attached to tall brown things. Trees. So far away. Hard and sharp digging into soft flesh. Hard and sharp. Rock? Test-scratch. Yes. Rock. Can’t move. Stuck. Stuck between rock? No. Stuck and can’t move. Pressure from all sides, pushing inwards. Senses dampened. Why? Confusion. What happened? Running. Running on dirt. Happy to run on dirt. Happy. Dirt ended. Stepped into air. Arms flailing. Insides rising. Tried to hold on. Missed the ledge. Fall? Fly? Float? Disconnected. Legs. Where are legs? Can’t feel legs. Arm is hot. Burning, hot arm. Shoe. Shoe so far away. Why is shoe all the way over there? Did it run away? It must have run away. Head ache. Why is the light so bright— can someone turn it out? Victor turn it out. Victor. Where’s Victor? Is Victor not here? Victor’s always here, why is he not here? Panic. Heart race. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe, can’t breathe. Can’tbreathecan’tbreathe _can’tbreathe_. Wet and running. Rain? Sticky rain. Sticky, red rain. Odd.

Breathebreathebreathe…


	5. Lost and Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> TW: accident w/ missing/injured person (I don't know if that's a trigger, but it's a little distressing and I don't want to surprise anyone)  
> I’m baaaaack! Did you miss me? Cuz I missed all of you!  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Yuri!!! On Ice  
> This is a continuation of my interpretation of suggestions from Shiranai Atsune. It’s a bit on the long side and it may get a bit boring, but I’m planning on bringing you guys to tears next time. In a good way.  
> Warning: we’re going to have a few needles/IVs, plus some injuries described in detail (I don’t know if it can be called graphic or anything, but it definitely paints a not-so-pretty picture) so look out.  
> Thanks for tuning in again, and here we go!

AN:

I’m baaaaack! Did you miss me? Cuz I missed all of you!

Disclaimer: I don’t own Yuri!!! On Ice

This is a continuation of my interpretation of suggestions from Shiranai Atsune. It’s a bit on the long side and it may get a bit boring, but I’m planning on bringing you guys to tears next time. In a good way.

**_TW_** **:** we’re going to have a few needles/IVs, plus some injuries described in detail (I don’t know if it can be called graphic or anything, but it definitely paints a not-so-pretty picture) so look out.

Thanks for tuning in again, and here we go!

CH5- Lost and Found

 

No.

              NO.

                           _NO._

            Victor’s gnarled fingers were scraped raw, several nails were torn, and blood clotted with sticky, sweet smelling mud. He ignored the stinging in his wounded hands and continued to dig frantically, chucking handfuls of sopping mud behind himself like a dog kicking up dirt. His was caked in mud to the point where he probably looked pretty scary, and a cold sweat sheened across his face.

            He swallowed, grimacing.

            He could hear them.

            The whimpers. The cries. It was obvious that the boy Victor was trying to unearth was in pain, but he was also unconscious so Victor couldn’t ask him what was hurting. Victor couldn’t attempt to heal— or at least comfort. He felt useless. And so, he dug.

            He could see a hand. A familiar hand covered in dried mud that looked like a calloused shell on the skin. A few fingers were broken and hanging at wrong angles, and jammed joints were swollen and round. Even though they were broken and a bit misshapen, Victor recognized those hands.

            The hands he held when he felt himself was falling apart, when emotions boiled over and he lost control, when his protective shell of ceramic and china was about to shatter. The hands he held when they shook and trembled.

            Yuri’s hands.

            Shaking himself, Victor turned his attention back to the task at hand: unburying his friend.

            It was freezing. The mud was numbing Victor’s already frozen fingers. He’d forgotten that autumn nights were so cold. Victor’s breath crystalized into a fine fog in front of his face. His limbs were slowly losing feeling and his joints were getting stiffer by the second. If Victor was already feeling the effects of the crisp night, then Yuri, who had been outside without protective clothing for hours, must be about to lose his fingers.

            After a certain stage, hypothermia caused permanent damage. Yuri could lose his hands. Those hands were how Victor had figured out that the body buried under the dirt and rock was Yuri. They were how, when Victor was lost in a nightmare, he knew that it was Yuri coming to his rescue and not a figment of his imagination.

            With a newfound energy, Victor attacked the dirt around Yuri’s still body again. In just minutes, he found Yuri’s other hand and pressed it and the other, which he had found minutes before, between his own. Yuri felt like ice. Victor would know. He grew up and made a living around ice. He tightened his grip on Yuri’s limp hands and blew out warm gusts of breath on them, attempting to add some heat. He eyed the skin’s purple colouring.

            Despite the heaviness of the situation, Victor was slightly exasperated. Trust Yuri to go and fall off a cliff to start with, but then manage to do it on the coldest night of the season as well. Life was always interesting with Katsuki Yuri around.

            But none of this was Yuri’s fault. Had Yuri’s parents not been so overbearing, Yuri probably wouldn’t have felt the need to change his running course just to spend a few more minutes away from his family. Had the poor man not been so pressured by the people he loved to change and suddenly be healthier and happier, maybe he wouldn’t have been so distracted by thoughts that were so heavy that he didn’t even notice that he was running towards a cliff—

            Victor’s breath caught so suddenly he began hacking violently. He sucked in deep breaths of sharp, cold air and dropped Yuri’s hands.

            What if this wasn’t accidental?

            What if this path wasn’t taken on a whim?

            What if Yuri knew about this place? Knew the path, and the cliff and how dangerous a fall from that height would be. Knew how long it would be before he was found, before anyone even noticed his absence. Knew that no one would even think to check the bottom of a cliff at the end of an abandoned trail.

            Victor’s hands went up to clutch at his hair as his thoughts spun.

            “ _Are you… are you suicidal?” Victor whispered, as if the word were forbidden._

_The reaction was instantaneous. Yuri went rigid and Victor was pretty certain he stopped breathing._

            “ _No,” Yuri shook his head. “No.”_

_Normally, Victor would have accepted Yuri’s answer, trusting his student to be honest with him, but when Yuri didn’t stop shaking his head, he felt his belief slipping._

            “ _Yuri?” Victor asked suspiciously._

            “ _Yeah?” Yuri’s normally high voice seemed to pitch even farther up the octave._

            “ _Are you lying to me?” Victor asked bluntly, gripping Yuri’s hand tightly when the other attempted to pull away. “Yuri please.”_

_Yuri looked away, his eyes trailing from the wall to the floor to the ceiling to the drawer chest to the door—literally everywhere but Victor._

_“I’m sorry but, you aren’t very subtle,” Victor said._

_Yuri gave a timid giggle, nervously gripping the back of his neck with the free hand that wasn’t being choked by Victor’s tight grip. Nerves jangled, Victor grasped Yuri by the sides of his face, forcing the smaller to look him in the eye._

            “ _You can tell me.”_

_Yuri shook his head until Victor gently grasped his chin. Yuri’s wide brown eyes began filling with tears. Victor relaxed his posture, slacking his back with guilt._

_“It’s okay,” he whispered as Yuri began gasping for breath, frantically attempting to hold his tears back._

_Victor’s face contorted into a pained expression and he wrapped his arms tightly around Yuri, tugging him to his chest. Yuri’s labored breathing became sobs as Victor pressed his face into his student’s hair._

_“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay….” Victor chanted._

_The two sat, comforted by each other’s presence, the sound of soft breathing lulling them both into a sense of security and unity._

            He had been warned.

            Victor was the only one who had known about it and he did nothing.

            Would it have helped, though? Would Yuri just have been angrier if Victor had not only slipped about the bathroom incident, but also about the conversation they had? Had Yuri only told Victor about all those things because he thought they’d be kept secret? Did Yuri really not want anyone to know? Did he not want to heal?

            Victor grabbed Yuri’s hands back into his own and hugged them to his chest as closely as he could. As if the tighter he held, the sooner help would come, the sooner Yuri would heal.

            When Victor slipped about Yuri’s… problem, it felt as if the world had ended just a little. He betrayed Yuri’s trust. But, once the secret was out, Victor felt relieved. Like some huge load was heaved off his shoulders, chopped into little pieces and passed around to all the people who wanted to know because the piece came with the knowledge, a package deal.

            Victor knew that Yuri might tell him things he didn’t’ want to hear. He knew that when he begged Yuri to tell him what he was going through that he would suffer that knowledge. He just didn’t know how heavy knowing would be.

            Yuri needed help. Victor couldn’t sit and wallow in his own self-pity when someone who was relying on him. Dehydration, exposure, increasingly severe hypothermia— Victor was racing the clock. He needed to get Yuri somewhere warm and safe as soon as possible. His injuries needed to be bandaged before they got infected, and he would probably need a few shots to combat the tetanus that was most likely raging through his body. He needed help now.

            Dirty, trembling fingers dug into his pocket, yanking out the phone inside. He flicked it open, the bright screen illuminating the scene and making it that much creepier. His fingers sped across the keys.

            “What’s your emergency?” a calm, almost monotonous female voice asked.

            “My friend— oh, God…” Victor’s free hand went up to cover his mouth, attempting to reel in a desperate sob.

            He was fine before he had to say it. It was too real, now that he had to say it. His burst of confidence disappeared. His body was shaking like an earthquake and for some reason he couldn’t get control of his spasming muscles. He tried to make words, but his brain was short-circuiting, his throat slowly restricting.

            Panic.

            He was panicking.

            He couldn’t do that— he had to stay strong. He had to be strong for Yuri, otherwise the lady on the phone wasn’t going to be able to send help.

            “Sir, is your friend in need of help?” the woman asked gently.

            Victor could hardly hear her. Sound was muffled, as if cotton had been stuffed into his ears. It might as well have been stuffed in his head, too, because his thoughts felt slow and disoriented. His limbs felt as if lead was lining the insides and he was very conscious about how loud his heart was beating.

            He had to be strong. For Yuri. Be strong.

            “Sir, can you tell me where you are?” the woman on the line attempted to get Victor’s attention again.

            Victor snapped his head up, finding his words again.

            “Ah— my... my friend is Katsuki Yuri—” Victor broke off, partially from an odd slap of confusion and partially from his gasping for air. “H-he… he fell? He fell… down a, like, a— um… ‘sa cliff…. It’s a cliff, I guess….” Victor felt lightheaded. The world was spinning and tilting.

            “Your friend… fell off a cliff?” she asked, sounding a little confused and disbelieving as she attempted to track the conversation.

            “Yes… hiking…. Hiking trail… it’s by the Katsukis’ hot springs— that’s where he lives… cuz his name is Katsuki. The trail… i-it’s by the, um, the road…” Victor stuttered, attempting to think clearly.

            “Are you in need of help as well, sir? Or is it just Mr. Katsuki who needs attention?”

            “I’m fine…. But he— hypothermia…. Mild— moderate? Getting worse. And he’s unconscious, did I mention that?” Victor asked a little detachedly, interrupting his own ramblings.

            “Ah, no you didn’t mention that—” the woman sounded concerned, but Victor barely noticed and, instead, he plowed on with his nervous chattering again.

            “Oh, well my friend is unconscious… he fell. He fell from a cliff… did I mention that?”

            “Yes sir, you did mention the cliff. Okay, we’re sending help right now so do your best to keep your friend warm, okay? Would you like me to stay on the phone with you until they arrive?” the woman sounded very kind, like a mother trying to soothe a child.

            “Y— ah, no, no. We’re— I’m okay, thanks.” Victor hung up, letting the phone thud softly to the grassy ground. He stared at Yuri who lay prone in front of him.

            It was so ungodly cold. Victor’s body shivered, his bones rattling and teeth chattering together. Despite the cold that numbed him to his very soul, Victor felt his face burning. Anxiety and tension rose every second that Yuri was outside in the freezing conditions with serious wounds that needed care.

            This was ridiculously unfair. Yuri didn’t deserve this. Neither did his family. Neither did Victor. No one deserved this. This sucked. This kind of compacted and twisted pain that somehow fit within the skin of a single person. It sucked.

            Victor reached out a tentative hand. He lightly touched the sleeve of Yuri’s jacket, fearing that he would only cause more hurt if he did anything else. He stared at Yuri’s face. It was so calm. So peaceful. Like he was asleep. Suddenly reminded of another part of life that looks a lot like sleeping, but is a whole lot more permanent, Victor coughed out a sob. He squeezed the sleeve of Yuri’s jacket tightly in one fist while his other hand went up to cover his mouth. The whole situation felt terrifyingly familiar. He felt his breath quicken into gasps, and his throat constrict until it ached. His heart felt heavy and his eyes burned.

            And then Victor threw himself across his friend’s body.

            And Victor sobbed.

            Violently.

            His head was buried in his friend’s chest, and his arms held the still body close in a desperate attempt to share body heat.

            Only a few weeks ago, he and Yuri were happily skating around the rink, teasing each other and learning from each other. Only a few weeks ago, Yuri had a big grin on his face and Victor was optimistic about their big, bright, endless futures.

            But Yuri’s future didn’t seem so big and bright, anymore. Now, weeks later, after secrets had been shed as painfully as the tears that followed, nothing would ever be the same. No big happy grins and long days of skating. No friendly banter and sunny family.

            Victor mulled a single question over and over, like a mantra. Why. They say life isn’t fair, but this was beyond unfair. This was uncalled for. This was cruel. This was… Victor was running out of words to call it, but it was a very bad thing. Very bad.

            The wailing siren of an ambulance pierced through the silence, but Victor hardly noticed it. It wasn’t until he saw the bright beams of a flashlights flickering through the trees that he realized that help had come. He couldn’t see the flashing lights from the ambulance, and he could barely hear shouts from the searchers through the densely packed trees.

            He heard the rustling of leaves and crackling of twigs snapping underfoot. He glanced up and found a full rescue crew of firemen, policemen and several nurses standing above him with their flashlights glowing and making them look like angels coming to his rescue. Victor was extremely glad they had come. He vaguely wondered how they found him. Must be police dogs. Victor liked dogs.

            “Just a moment, sir, and we’ll be right down. Just hold on,” a policeman shouted down with a deep, jovial voice that reminded Victor of Santa Claus.

            A fireman that was even smaller than Yuri tossed one end of a thick rope down and secured the other end by tying it tightly to a nearby tree. He said something to the nurses behind him, and the women nodded sharply like soldiers taking orders.              

            The smallest of the nurses, a young woman in blue scrubs, took a backpack from the taller nurse with the blonde highlights. She then gripped the rope tightly in her hands and began sliding down it, kicking off the side of the cliff casually as if she might be sliding down a rock wall and not a muddy cliff.

            When she hit the bottom, she rushed over to Yuri and Victor and began asking questions a mile a minute, all the while trying to observe Yuri through the rubble that piled on top of him. As she chattered away, a fireman in full bulky uniform slid down the rope, but it looked more like it was a controlled fall than anything else. When he landed, he tossed his hat to the side. The hard plastic making a loud crack as it hit a cluster of rocks as he turned around and looked up toward the cliff, holding his arms out as if to catch something, which he did. Victor couldn’t tell what the odd bulky object was until the fireman began unfolding it. When the object was set upright, Victor understood.

            It was a lamp. A huge lamp. A very huge, foldable lamp. There was a long, neon orange cord that lead up through the forest. Victor wondered where it attached. He didn’t think there were outlets in the forest. That would be a very nice improvement to forests. Outlets in trees. Victor snorted at his musings.

            The light emitted from the lamp was extremely bright, almost like a personal sun. Like a portable, personal, foldable sun. Victor watched as the fireman who was setting up the lamp, now joined by several more who were climbing down the rope, stepped over to Yuri. The firemen clustered around Yuri and Victor in a huddle, whispering conspiratorially between each other. Victor couldn’t make out what they were saying over the rushing sound in his ears, but he figured they were discussing a way to get Yuri up the cliff safely. Victor just clung to Yuri and stared up at the firemen with an uncomprehendingly.

            “Hun, I’m going to need you to let go of your friend,” the small nurse suddenly appeared by Victor’s shoulder, patting him gently.

            Victor shook his head so fast, the world started spinning.

            “Just for a little while. We have to get him ready to be moved. If he’s not ready, it could hurt him. Understand?” the nurse asked patiently.

            Victor paused, then nodded slowly. He did, however, refuse to let go of Yuri’s hand. The nurse gave him a pat on the shoulder, saying that Yuri was a lucky man. Whatever that meant.

            “Hey,” the nurse called out, seeing Victor begin to clumsily shift away from his friend without releasing the hand he kept in a death grip. “Let me clean up your hands a bit.”

            She dropped her bag onto the ground, and it made clinking and rustling sounds. It was obviously heavy and overstuffed with supplies. She pulled some bandages out of her back and a bottle whose bright label claimed to be some kind of sanitizing fluid. She uncapped the bottle, using her mouth to unscrew it, which Victor found to be unsanitary. He didn’t want her spit in his cuts, no matter how nice she was.

            “This will sting some,” she warned, pouring some of the cool liquid across Victor’s hands.

            The stinging hardly registered at all. It was dampened, like the pins and needles feeling from a limb falling asleep.

            The kind nurse then carefully cleaned the mud and dried blood off of Victor’s hands and wrapped them in bandages with an agonizing slowness.

            “You’re missing a few nails, sweetheart. That needs some attention before it gets infected— and you can’t just wrap it up and call it a day.”

            When she had wrapped Victor up to her satisfaction, the nurse turned away and began taking other things out the bag. She pulled out more bottles and was fiddling with an empty bag that looking like it could be used for an IV. She must have caught Victor’s odd look because she began to explain what each item was for. The soft drone of speaking soothed Victor’s frayed nerves.

            “One of these bottles is just plain saline, which is a saltwater sort of thing. It’ll help your friend.”

            She set down the blue tinged bottle she had held up for Victor to see. She then reached for a stainless-steel thermos.

            “This is full of warm liquid, similar to saline, so we can start warming your friend from the inside out. Hypothermia can be very dangerous and we want to make sure we get a start on the warming process as soon as we can to prevent a more severe form hypothermia that can lead to amputations, or illnesses and…” as the obviously well-read nurse continued to explain what she was doing, Victor blinked mutely at up her, lost in a swarm of disconnected thoughts.

            The nurse allowed him to move back and sit by Yuri’s head again, and he did so a bit tentatively, worried that he might hurt Yuri. Victor settled next to his student’s head and began brushing his fingers through the dirty, tangled hair. He understood that he couldn’t move Yuri’s head. The nurse said to not to. He couldn’t remember what reason she had, but just that he had to keep his student’s head steady.

            Victor turned his attention to attempting to keep up with the conversation between the firefighters who were contemplating on how to get Yuri up the rope. He glanced over to the rope and found the nurse standing there, talking to someone above on the cliff. He wondered when she got there, then vaguely recalled hearing a voice calling to someone named Sakura— which must be his nurse’s name. Squinting, Victor realized that her arms were stretched up and she was receiving a long, flat surfboard-looking thing that had straps all over it. Once the board was securely in her grasp, the nurse— Sakura— skipped back over to the pod of firemen who had shuffled away from Yuri and Victor.

            She began conversing with the firemen and held up a thick, hard looking piece of blue plastic. She mimed wrapping it and showed them how it clasped before handing it over to one of the firemen. The man who won the prize of the bulky blue plastic was tall and gangly with straw-like hair. The fireman trudged over to Victor and Yuri with the plastic thing in hand. Victor wondered what is for.

            “That’s a neck brace,” Sakura explained, suddenly popping up next to Victor. “It keeps your friend’s head steady so that if he broke his neck, he won’t get hurt even more when we move him.”

            Victor stared.

            “Sorry, you were talking out loud to yourself,” Sakura explained.

            Broken neck. That meant paralyzed. That meant you can’t move. If you can’t move, you can’t skate. Yuri would be destroyed if he couldn’t skate.

            “Please don’t be paralyzed, please don’t be paralyzed…” Victor chanted, watching the fireman slip one of the ends of the collar all the way around Yuri’s neck. He froze, his eyes finally actually looking on the face of his injured friend. “Oh, God, Yuri. Why did you do this?”

            Victor felt something warm trickled down his face. Before he could move to swipe the wetness away, a splotch landed on the fair face of his student. Sniffing, Victor swiped the liquid away and leaned down to peck his friend’s forehead, as if apologizing for dropping a tear on him. He glanced up at the nurse gravely.

            “You _have_ to fix him,” he told Sakura with a sharp, but raw voice.

            His throat felt torn and ragged. He felt suddenly a bit more grounded, a bit more human. He assumed it was because Yuri was so close to being fully rescued and out of the blasted forest.

            “You have to,” he repeated desperately. “He’s everything. I don’t have anything else. He’s my _family_. _Please_.”

            One of the firemen sniffled loudly from somewhere off to the side. Sakura’s nodded firmly with a grave face.

            “We have to get him on this board, which will require a lot more moving, but since his neck is now stable, it should be okay.”

            Victor took no offense to the nurse’s overly sweet voice. He relished in the soothing, almost cooing tones.

            A pair of firemen took opposing ends of Yuri and worked together to heave him out of his mud prison, awkwardly laying him as carefully as they could on the board. Thin black straps were wrapped and tightened across his body, securing to the opposite side of the board, effectively restraining him. Yuri seemed to not even be breathing and he was strapped with his arms pinned to his sides, his body as straight as a rod. Victor imagined him snug in a coffin.

            The firemen then carried their precious cargo on their shoulders. They attempted to keep the board steady, but the uneven ground and large, scattered boulders and rocks made it a bit difficult. They tripped and slid, and almost dropped Yuri several times before they made it over to the rope. When they finally did, the policeman and a nurse stood waiting for them.

            “This will be a bit tricky, okay?” one of the fireman said, glancing behind himself to the others. “We’re going to tip our friend here upright, like he’s standing up, okay?” he then turned to Victor. “Don’t worry, he won’t fall out. Those straps are stronger than you think. The man up on the cliff will reach down and pull him up while I push. It’ll take a while, but it’s important that you stay calm understand?”

            Victor nodded rapidly.

            “And remember, we don’t know if your friend here can hear us. That means we have to be _extra_ calm, so we don’t scare him, alright?”

            Another vigorous nod from Victor, though he noted that the man was talking in an exaggerated slow and soft voice.

            “Alright, boys, let’s do this,” the fireman said.

            Victor was worried. And scared. And nervous. And quite possibly having a mental break down, which may or may not be due to the fact that his friend probably tried to commit suicide because he felt so betrayed by Victor, who selfishly and stupidly told a very special secret to the people who will probably hate Victor forever and—

            “Breath, kid. Don’t pass out on me, now,” one of the fireman closest to him ordered.

            Victor gave him a weak smile. One of the men was a few inches up the rope already, and Yuri was completely upright.  The policeman that stood on the top of the cliff had his feet braced against two conveniently placed boulder-like rocks and was arching backwards, gripping the board that Yuri was tied to. He heaved the board out of the fireman’s hands and collapsed backwards on his back, the board laying across his chest.

            While Yuri had been awkwardly, yet successfully sent up the edge of the cliff, Sakura had stuffed all of the bottles and blankets back into the backpack that was now thrown over one shoulder. She struggled with her other arm, finally threading it between the bag and the strap before skipping up to the rope.

            The nurse wrapped the rope around one hand, probably in case she fell, Victor realized. Once she got the hang of the climb, the nurse resembled a ninja quickly scaling the cliff, looking stealthily and graceful with her smooth movements. When she reached the top, she looked down at Victor and shouted at him to come up.

            Victor stumbled over to the rope and grabbed it in one hand. It was rough and coarse with wear and age. Little spindles and fibers stabbed his hand, sure to give him rope burn. He copied the actions of the nurse and wrapped the rope around his hand, grimacing at the feeling of the rope cutting into his palm and scratching the back of his hand. He then reached out with another hand and gripped the rope above his first hand. Not completely sure if he was doing it correctly, he glanced up at Sakura who was still on her knees, leaning over the edge of the cliff, giving him tips and bits of encouragement to help him up the rope.

            “You’re doing just fine,” she assured him. “Just hold on tight and walk your feet up. The higher up you can get them, the easier it will be to climb up, okay?”

            Victor nodded and swung his lower body upwards. Man, he was exhausted.

            “Perfect, now you just have to walk normally. But up. Just walk normally… up.” Sakura squinted at her own wording before shaking off the awkward moment. “It will be difficult, but you can do this.”

             Victor steeled himself and began walking his feet upwards, pulling upwards on the rope, but mostly relying on his legs to do the hard work. While he found the method that Sakura told him to use very effective, he still wished someone could just pull the rope up so that all he had to do was hold one (which was a feat in itself).

            When he reached the top, Victor was suspended upside down in an unattractive and compromising way with his torso dangling off the cliff with his feet resting limply on firm ground. One of the firemen stepped over and pulled Victor up so strongly, Victor almost went sprawling onto the dirt.

            “Sorry, kid. You okay?” the fireman patted Victor’s back heartily and grinned. “You did great back there. Very brave, very strong.”

            Victor felt like a little kid being praised for not having a panic attack at an inconvenient time, but it warmed his heart all the same.

            “Er, where’s—” Victor cut himself off when he caught a glimpse between the trees of the back doors of an ambulance being slammed shut. “Yuri!” he cried out, as if his friend could hear or reply.

            Suddenly fueled with energy, he made a mad dash through the thickly grown trees, hardly bothering to duck as tree limbs thwacked his face. Dirt kicked up behind him and he could hear the fireman and the policeman shouting at him to come back, to stop running. To stop running to the injured, helpless student that was being taken from him.

            Not running is what separates family. Not running is what caused all this mess to start with. The lack of anyone running to or at anything is what had driven Yuri literally to the edge of a cliff. From now on, Victor would always run to Yuri. Always.

            Victor was near the tree line when he heard the thud of a driver door shutting, affirming his assumption that the nurses were planning to drive Yuri away and steal him from Victor, leaving Victor behind in the dirt. Literal dirt. There was dirt everywhere and Victor was almost positive that Yuri was allergic to dust, which was pretty much a descendant of dirt.

            Victor suddenly felt himself slam into something hard.

            “Ow! Holy— oh, my— _ow_!” he exclaimed.

            Looking over his shoulder, he found that it was an ambulance that he’d run into. Brilliant. He rolled onto his back and sat up, cradling the arm attached to the shoulder he rammed into the vehicle.

            He had been so lost in thought that he didn’t even realize he had breached the edge of the forest, where the ambulance was parked. He landed in a heap on the concrete road, momentarily stunned. The small vehicle in front of him shook with the force of his accidental body slamming, and he heard surprised cries of the driver and other nurses on board.  

            He heard the driver land heavily on the concrete road, but all Victor could see was the quick steps of the legs visible through the gap between the concrete and the bottom of the vehicle. When the legs finally made it around the ambulance, they stopped. The driver, a tall man with a sweating problem, stared at down Victor for a second.

            “Uh… can I help you?” the man asked uncertainly.

            “Sorry. About the crashing into your ambulance thing,” Victor blurted out. “But I have to get on this ambulance. I have to stay with Yuri. That’s the boy who fell down the cliff— his name is Yuri— Katsuki Yuri. And I can’t leave him. I left him once already. I can’t do it again. I can’t. Please.” Victor babbled in a strained voice, a lump in his throat restricting him from speaking easily.

            The driver shrugged and gestured for Victor to follow him. Victor picked himself up off the hard ground with a grimace, groaning as his tired limbs protested his moving. The man threw open the back doors where Sakura sat fiddling with bags of different coloured liquids. Interesting. Sakura glanced up when the doors opened.

            “Oh, hey,” recognition glinted in Sakura’s eyes. “Great job on that climbing the cliff, by the way. First time I had to climb something that high, I cried. And fell.”

            Sakura reached out a hand to Victor.

            “Come in, I told them we had to wait for you, but she—” Sakura jerked a thumb in the direction of the irritable looking woman that sat in the passenger seat, “— wouldn’t let us.”

            Sakura shook her head as Victor accepted the helping hand and sat down next to her on what looked like a padded bench that was nailed to the wall of the ambulance.

            “So, sorry about that. Nice touch with the slamming into the ambulance, though. Kind of crazy, but you can’t knock it if it works, right?” Sakura smiled winningly as the driver glared at her.

            Victor leaned over Yuri, examining his friend. The boy was covered with several thick blankets, the only visible skin being his face, which was mostly covered with an oxygen mask of clear plastic that fogged with every breath Yuri breathed out. Victor found it fascinating to watch and continued to stare at the mask, monitoring his friend’s breathing as the vehicle lurched into drive.

            Turning her attention to Yuri, Sakura pulled the boy’s arm out from under the warm protection that the thick blankets offered and laid it across her lap. She began wiping up and down, all over the skin before spraying it and wiping it again in an obsessive pattern, claiming it was all necessary. Victor thought she might be a little OCD. Then the nurse then went on a tangent about infections from improperly cleaned skin and unsterile equipment and that made Victor glad the nurse was OCD. It would suck for Yuri to get this far just to die from tetanus or something.

            When Yuri’s arm was cleaned to her satisfaction, Sakura hardly looked at the drawer of needles she yanked open before selecting one and she began working it into his skin.

            “Should you do that in a moving vehicle?” Victor muttered sluggishly. Sakura glared at him as if questioning her was blasphemy.

            “We’re at a stoplight,” she said, hanging the bag of fluid that was steadily entering Yuri’s bloodstream from a tall, metal rod that stood connected to the bed Yuri laid on.

            She warned Victor not to touch it, as if Victor would do anything to interfere his friend’s healing. Sakura then sat by Yuri’s head and began cleaning a large gash there. There was a horrible wound that reached from his temple, across a portion of his forehead and ended somewhere in his mass of soft brown hair. It was oozing blood that was so dark it looked black.

            “Don’t worry, head wounds always bleed this much,” Sakura spoke up, interrupting the driver who had started rambling about his kids and wife back at home, which was probably an attempt to keep Victor calm.

            Victor normally would have found it kind of demeaning if someone thought they had to comfort him and were doing it by talking about their wife’s favourite flowers and what instruments their children played. Oddly enough, Victor enjoyed listening to the cheerful, one-sided conversation. Victor hardly heard the nurse as she continued on talking, explaining the causes and effects of blunt force trauma to the head… or something. Victor couldn’t really hear anything through the obnoxious buzzing in his head.

            “And don’t worry too much about the colour, his blood isn’t black because it’s infected or anything scary like that. It’s just the clotting.”

            “Can he… will he… is he gonna be…?” Victor asked in a small voice.

             “When we get him to the hospital, we’ll be able to rule out things like brain damage, but so far, he has a concussion, a twisted ankle, some broken fingers, a few bumps and bruises, a touch of moderate hypothermia and a few cracked ribs,” Sakura rattled off. “It sounds like a laundry list, but it’s really not that bad, considering the fall he went through. I’d guess that cliff was eight feet at least, probably more.”

            “Brain damage?” Victor asked weakly, the word echoing throughout his brain.

            “There’s a very broad scale of effects that brain damage can have on the body. Your friend could just forget a few things, or struggle with memory as a whole. He could have headaches frequently or get dizzy easily. Or….”

             “Or?” Victor prompted, having the feeling that he wasn’t going to like what the nurse had to say. Sakura shifted, biting her lip anxiously.

            “Well, he might… struggle with other things,” she said vaguely. Victor blinked.

            “Like what?”

            Sakura sighed at this and continued, albeit grudgingly.

             “He might not be able to walk on his own. Or breath on his own, which means he will have to have a machine do it for him. He might not be able to speak or understand speech. He might have vision or hearing problems that he didn’t have before… there’s a very broad spectrum.”

            He might not be able to walk on his own? That means he won’t be able to skate. Skating was everything to Yuri! Yuri couldn’t go two days without skating. How was he supposed to handle an entire lifetime? Feeling as if he just destroyed his friend’s happiness and quality of life, Victor stared at the ground. His mind was racing with blame and remorse.

            “Wait, did you say eight feet or more? It really didn’t seem…” Victor trailed off, feeling a bit lightheaded.

             “You were probably more focused on helping your friend than you were on how high a cliff he fell off of.” Sakura smiled understandingly, patting his arm gently. Victor shook his head.

            “But I… I _jumped_ … I jumped down there to get to him— shouldn’t I have felt that?” Victor asked, mind shooting back to the moment he found Yuri.

            Victor remembered seeing a massive pile of dirt and rocks when he had come across the cliff, almost tumbling down it himself. He didn’t find the cliff to be too strange. It could’ve been from a mudslide, or a discontinued attempt at clearing the land. It wasn’t until he saw the bright blue of a familiar jacket when he realized what had happened.

            That jacket was one that matched his own.

            It was a skater’s jacket.

            Without thinking, Victor had thrown his legs over the lip of the cliff and started sliding down feet first. He hadn’t even thought about how steep the cliff was or about the fact that there were very pointy rocks at the bottom. Or the fact that pointy rocks hurt.

            “Maybe it was the adrenaline rush?” Sakura suggested, launching into a speech about adrenaline.

            The more he talked with the nurse, the more connected with reality he felt. The less his thoughts felt storms.

             “How are you feeling?” the nurse asked suddenly.

             “Huh? Oh, I’m fine. Better. Good.” Victor grinned in what he hoped was a reassuring way. He was pretty sure it was more of a grimace than an actual smile, though.

            Victor was exhausted. His arms and legs burned from his endless digging. He had been so cold, and now it felt like his inside were burning up. But he couldn’t complain. At least he was conscious. At least he wasn’t bleeding. At least he wasn’t so dehydrated he needed water injections.

            Victor focused on the soft voice of the ambulance driver who had gone from talking about his wife and kids to explaining in detail his first adventure with driving a vehicle with a manual clutch. Victor wasn’t paying too much attention to the words, as he was the sounds of speech, but it sounded like the adventure hadn’t gone well. He felt his thoughts slowing, his body calming with the effects of the soft voice.

            “Oh look, there’s the hospital,” Sakura said, pointing at a tall building that had a huge sign surrounded by trimmed trees and attractive flowers.

            Victor jerked out of his sleepy haze and followed her pointing finger,

            “ _Hope and Healing Hospital_?” Victor asked, grimacing as he read the sign.

            “Yeah, hospitals tend to have dumb names. Like _Grace and Mercy Healing Centre_ on the other side of town,” Sakura said.

             “What’s a _Healing_ _Centre_?” Victor sniffed as if the name were a disgusting thing. This had Sakura laughing as she stood to help get Yuri out of the back of the vehicle. The ambulance’s driver had tugged the double doors open both he and the two nurses began to drag out the bed Yuri lay on, where he was still tied to the board.

             “Okay, we’re going to take your friend in for a few tests and someone will be out to tell you what we find. There are a few medical forms we’d like you to fill out in the waiting room if you could,” Sakura began guiding Victor away from Yuri, who was being pushed speedily through a set of doors that said “Emergency” in bold red letters.

            Realizing that, in order for Yuri to get better, Victor had to let him go, he allowed himself to be practically dragged over to a smaller set of doors that claimed to be the entrance, where he was introduced to the gross smell of sterilized equipment and sanitizer. Everything was white, with the exception of the deep blue waiting room chairs that looked stiff and uninviting. The lighting was blinding and made Victor’s already pounding headache even worse. He already missed Yuri. And it hadn’t even been five minutes yet. This dependency was starting to freak Victor out.

            “You said you are a family member, am I correct?” Sakura’s voice snapped Victor out of his childish yearning. “Could you state your relationship to the patient?”

            Sakura stepped behind the nurse’s station, where she grabbed a stack of papers pinned to a clipboard from a frazzled looking woman with a trash basket full of empty paper coffee cups.

             “Oh, no, I’m not a blood relative— oh, my goodness, I haven’t called his parents! They must be so worried!” Victor scrambled to find his phone. He remembered dropping it onto the forest ground, but he couldn’t remember ever picking it up or— there!

            Victor tugged his phone from his pocket and accepted a clipboard of papers and a pen from Sakura who asked a few quick questions about allergies and medical conditions that Yuri might have. After discovering that Victor had no idea what Yuri was allergic to, Sakura promised to be back soon and sped down one of the many hallways lined with doors.

            Victor stuffed the papers under his arm and sluggishly began to dial the well-known number, sinking stiffly down into a deep blue armchair. His fingers were slow and stiff, their joints aching as he struggled to type the number into his phone.

             “Victor?” a strangled, breathless voice asked. Victor cursed himself for waiting this long to call. Mrs. Katsuki sounded worried and borderline panicky. His heart ached for the woman who was like a second mother to him.

             “Yes, Mrs. Katsuki? I found Yuri. He was in the forest. You should come to the hospital. They say he’ll be okay, but they still have tests to run… he fell while hiking or running or something….” Victor scrubbed a hand down his weary face. “Look, I’m sorry for not calling sooner, it was a bit difficult to get him… to the ambulance….”

            Victor wasn’t sure how much he should tell the family before they drove to the hospital and how much he should relay in person.

            _Hello, your only son fell off a cliff (whether it was an accident or a planned suicide attempt is yet to be determined), was buried under a mountain of rock and dirt for hours, and now has cracked ribs, broken fingers, hypothermia, a concussion and possible brain damage which could range from frequent headaches to him being unable to walk or breathe on his own and therefore relying on a machine to inject his lungs with oxygen and a bed to sit in until the end of his much shorter, much more miserable life. Drive safely._

            “We’re on our way,” came the answer.

            The phone made a deep click, the telltale sign of being hung up on. Victor set the phone on the arm of his chair and hunched over the paperwork on his lap

            _Name. Age. Date of birth. Height and weight. Allergies…._

            _Family members. Phone numbers of each member. Age and date of birth of each member. Conditions/allergies of each member…_

            Victor answered the first few pages of questions easily enough. He knew that Katsuki family would be too tired and scared to be able to think about tedious forms and never-ending questions, so he tried his hand at filling out as much as he knew. He wanted to help. It was the least he could do.

            Also, answering questions kept him alert and didn’t allow for him to slip back into the hazy daze of confusion he had been in while Yuri was being pulled out of a cliff and treated in the ambulance. He wasn’t sure if he was legally able to fill the forms out since he wasn’t a blood family member, but Sakura handed him the forms and told him to fill them out, so he went along with it.

            _Family and patient history: check all that apply and list whether family member or patient as the afflicted._

            Victor’s usefulness and ability to fill forms might end here.

o   _Angina_

o   _Coronary artery disease_

o   _Anxiety_

o   _Allergies_

o   _Blood clots_

o   _Arthritis_

o   _Atrial fibrillation_

o   _Benign prostatic hypertrophy_

o   _Cerebrovascular accident_

o   _Anemia_

            Victor’s eyes widened as the list continued through depression and diabetes to every type of disease in existence, including several conditions involving seizures and “migraine headaches.” Deficiencies like hearing loss or simpler ones, like the common need for prescription glasses were also listed, as were an alarming slew of addictions to substances like illegal drugs, alcohol and prescription medication. Several debilitating diseases like Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s were on there as well and some diseases, such as Bronchitis, had the words “types” in parentheses.

            Victor let the pen fall onto his stack of papers and dropped his face into his hand, which was propped up by the elbow on the arm of the chair. He was exhausted. Overwhelmed. The panic, the searching, the tears, the blame, the digging, the pain, the ache, the questions— it was too much.

            And it was all his fault.          


	6. Sleeping Beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri!! On Ice.  
> Back at it again with the angsty chap!  
> Also back at it again with the trying to pretend like I have medical knowledge.  
> Thanks for the continued support from all the lovely fans out there, I’m sending my love in return! <3

 

CH6 ~~-~~ Sleeping Beauty

            Autumn flew by, taking its bright leaves, family gatherings and homey smells with it. Winter brought heavy, fluffy snows and several outbreaks of the common cold that ran rampant through schools and hospitals. Spring bloomed with colourful flowers, dewy grass and chattering birds in cool, fresh air. Summer called for cheery windchimes jingling and tinkling as watermelon and ice cream were sold on streets. The sun rose and set, bringing with it bright and violent smears of colours, and its counterpart brought the gentle, still night sky when the sun slept.

            And Victor saw it all through the surprisingly large hospital window in a white, sterile room where everything gleamed metallically, and the air burned his nose. He sat in the same rock-hard chair with its straight back and deep blue cushions, or he moped on one side of the lumpy window seat. Victor spent most of his time lounging across that seat, his body aching and burning with stress knots.

            He’d stare out the window with a passive face, looking more and more like a ghost every day. When it was cold enough, his breath would fog the glass and sometimes he would trace his fingertips through the misty fog made on the chilly window. He wrote pretty words. He drew simple pictures. He made wishes. Wishes from the ghost of a man he used to be. He hated how melodramatic he was becoming.

            It was hard to hear music over the steady beat of the heart monitor, sometimes, but Victor had become accustom to the rhythm of the natural metronome. That pulse was, for a while, the only music Victor needed. If he was religious, it could’ve been compared to the reassurance a lost man got from turning to his God in prayer. That heart monitor was a constant proof of the life. Better than the response to a prayer.

            But sometimes it was annoying. Sometimes it grated on Victor’s nerves like the sound of constant coughing from next door. Or the sound of the crying child belonging to the woman who lived across the hall. Victor felt like that heartbeat was mocking him. A strong heartbeat meant a healthy and healing. It was a promise that everything would be okay. It was a promise that something was still there. That there was still something to save. And Victor would get lost in the hope that heartbeat would bring him, until he remembered.

            As soon as he remembered “disabilities.” As soon as he remembered “mental problems,” and, “memory loss,” and “we’ll know more if he wakes up.” But mostly, when he remembered the “if.” “ _If_ he wakes up.” _If._ Everyone said “if.” As if there was some kind of question in there. Like there was an uncertainty.

            Victor couldn’t bring himself to believe an “if.” He had to believe “when” and “soon” and “any day now.” The words he had been keeping him going, keeping him believing. The words he parroted to the Katsuki family, who was slowly losing hope as the days dragged on. The Katsuki family told him that it was great to be hopeful. It was wonderful that he believed. But they also said to be realistic. To be ready. Just in case. And now Victor even sure what he believed in anymore.

            He spent so much time arguing with doctors and nurses and surgeons. Fighting off their apologies with hope, fighting off their pessimistic views with optimism, fighting off their proven scientific studies with miracles. _How many things can go wrong in childbirth?_ He asked once. _And how many children are born in a year? How many things can go wrong before a child reaches adulthood? And how many children reach adulthood? Miracles. That’s all miracles. And who says just one miracle can’t be spared for my friend?_

            Victor was the King of positivity, but he couldn’t keep this up. After all, what is a King without his Queen?

            Victor rested his chin on one hand, which was propped up lazily by the elbow on the windowsill. He stared blankly at the people outside as he leaned against the chilled glass. A woman with a bright red scarf and a man with a tan trench coat both held coffees in one hand, and a shared black umbrella in the other as they ambled down the sidewalk in the early morning drizzle. A child in rainbow rubber boots held an older girl’s hand tightly and jumped with both feet into large puddles, making the older girl grin and shield her face with mitten-covered hands. A man in a rain-stained dress shirt ran past, holding a large black briefcase over his head, his long black coat flapping impressively like a magician’s cloak.

            Victor people watched. A lot. It was a new thing for him. Watching people he neither knew, nor cared about. Well-dressed couples sipping from coffees, children holding hands with their big sisters and jumping in puddles, late businessmen who always forgot their umbrellas. The latter, Victor found, was much more common than he expected.

            He watched wearily as the rain poured down, and he followed the trails the droplets took as they landed on the glass. It rained all the time.

            It was winter.

            It was _supposed_ to be snowing. Victor was torn between relief and irritation that it wasn’t snowing. Despite his love for ice, Victor had never been too partial to snow, but he learned how to like it because of a particular student of his.

            Victor swallowed hard. The lapse of unfeeling that had sparked warm thoughts about his friend had passed, and he was back to gazing outside, feeling empty.

            Empty because he saw the world spinning, but he himself stood still.

            Empty because he saw them laugh and cry, but he could didn’t even smile or frown.

            Empty because he saw every face and voice and thing full of life and colour, and he was as grey and still as the boy lying in a month-long coma.

            Victor refused to do anything until his friend was back. He refused to be happy, practice skating, celebrate Christmas, anything. He wasn’t doing anything until his other half was _there_ again. Was it healthy? No. Is that coping? Absolutely not. But Victor didn’t care. Because it wasn’t him in that coma.

            One month.

            Victor didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.

            31 days.

            Please hurry. Please wake up. Please.

 

~

 

 

            “Victor, do you want us to get you anything from the cafeteria?”

            Victor didn’t look away from the window. He was sitting in the stiff blue chair by the hospital bed, rubbing a corner of the scratchy white blanket between his fingers. Mrs. Katsuki. She kept trying to feed him. Kept trying to get him to sleep. He didn’t respond to the soft, maternal voice, but turned his head away and fixed his eyes on the wall above the headboard of the bed.

            A heavy sigh washed in from across the room. This one sound deeper than the feminine voice. A warm hand rested gently on Victor’s head for a moment. He could tell it was Mr. Katsuki because of the strong smell of mint tea and laundry detergent. Mr. Katsuki. He kept trying to comfort Victor. Kept giving Victor words of encouragement, long bear hugs. Victor had to admit that it was nice. Warm.

            When Victor heard the shuffling of feet exit the room, and the door swing shut with a hushed click, he glanced up. Through the narrow window in the door, he saw the backs of the couple. They were talking to each other, clearly passionate about the subject. He only heard a few things that filtered through the thick door.

            “…. Our son, but—”

            “…lost more…”

            “… worried… he doesn’t….”

            “…. eventually…”

            Victor felt like a child eavesdropping on his parents. He turned his head away from the door sluggishly and gazed at the blanket he was clenching between two fingers. He gripped the cloth so tightly his hand whitened and trembled. He took a shaky breath, rubbing his free hand over his eyes before leaning down and resting his head on the edge of the bed. He closed his eyes, meaning only to rest them for a bit, but when he opened them and his gaze met the white ceiling above, the room was dark.

            Victor turned his head to see that the window’s curtains were still pushed back but, instead of a rainy city, they showed a black sky brightened by a gentle glow cast from the stars. He felt oddly warm and when he rolled over, he found himself lying on the broad, stiff hospital bed next to the sleeping patient. Victor briefly wondered if “sleep” was the wrong word. Squinting at the thought, he wriggled closer to his student. He shut his tired, stinging eyes again and breathed peacefully for the first time in

            two months.

            _And counting…._

 

_~_

 

             

            He wasn’t sure how he felt about visitors. He hardly tolerated the Katsuki family coming in. It bothered him for reasons he couldn’t understand. He wanted to sit with his friend, smoothing the sheets, fluffing the pillow, monitoring the heartbeats. He wanted to do this alone. He didn’t announce the discontent that fizzled his nerves and burned his skin whenever someone came in the room, but it felt…

            And it was strange, too. Their child was in a coma. It made perfect sense that they would want to see him. _Victor_ was supposed to be the one standing outside the room. _Victor_ was supposed to be the one begging to see his hurt loved one. But instead, he was sitting with his friend, wishing the parents— who had every right to see their child— would leave. It was ridiculous. Victor didn’t actually turn the Katsuki family away. He feared death-by-Mari, should he ever do that. He also knew it was completely unfair and childish of him to hog his friend. So, Victor grew up and grew a pair.

            And, if he didn’t like the Katsuki family visiting, he _really_ didn’t like when his fellow skaters did. Visits from the skaters were the first thing that elicited a reaction from Victor in a long time.

            Phichit was one of the first of Yuri’s friends that came to visit. He had brought a huge bouquet of yellow flowers in a tall vase of multi-coloured glass which he set on the bedside table before falling into dramatics. The boy fell to his knees by the bed, and grabbed Yuri’s hand, clasping it to his chest. He started rambling on about how dear a friend Yuri was. He prayed that Yuri would be healed. He spoke of hopes that Yuri would wake up without pain.

            He started talking about random things, telling stories of his life and the things he and Yuri shared a love for. He talked about sunrises, and skating, and friends and family, and he prattled on until started sobbing.

            Just like that.

            Big, fat, rolling tears.

            Everywhere.

            With the sniffing and the whimpering and the groaning and everything. Victor stared at him with bewildered confusion before chucking over a box of tissues, which landed on the bed next to the sobbing skater. Phichit thanked him with a warbled voice and began cleaning up his tear stained face. Then he got up, muttered a soft good-bye and exited the room. Victor continued to stare at the door after Phichit had left. The sheets were wrinkled.

 

 

~

 

 

            It was a week later, when Christophe came with big green eyes dry as a desert. It was unexpected. Victor thought that Chris was emotional, despite the good head he had on his shoulders. He was a bit dramatic and had the most expressive eyes Victor had ever seen. But, when he visited, those eyes were calm. Passionate, understanding, but calm.

            Another surprised came when Chris knocked softly, asking for entrance. He didn’t rush right in like Victor expected. When Victor didn’t respond to the knock quickly enough, because he usually didn’t respond when there was a knock, Christophe cracked the door open and peeked his head in.

            “May I?” Chris asked politely. Victor shrugged a shoulder.

            Christophe grinned, eyes a bit dim. Victor was sitting on the window seat again, his back facing the door and the bed so he could focus his attention completely on the window and what was outside it. Sometimes he had to watch his friend and the monitors and the door and be there. But sometimes, he just couldn’t.

            Victor glanced over his shoulder, turning slightly to watch Christophe settle on the awful blue chair and stare down at the bed. He reached out, as if to touch, but aborted the motion when his fingers were only centimeters away. His hand hovered over Yuri’s face, but eventually dropped onto his own lap. For a good hour or more, Christophe simply sat there. Staring.

            Eventually, he got up and walked over to Victor, who moved to stand, his exhausted mind struggling to process what was going on and how he was supposed to respond to human interaction. Christophe stopped him with a small smile and reached a hand out, gently squeezing Victor’s shoulder,

            An act of comfort.

            For Victor.

            This left Victor confused and staring at Christophe in bewilderment even when the other skater had long left the room. The rain had stopped.

 

 

~

 

            The triplets were wild.

            Their mother was apologetic, her hair a bit scraggly, her clothes slightly rumpled, but her smile sweet. The triplets helped each other haul their little bodies onto the tall bed and babbled rapid fire at Yuri, despite that fact that he couldn’t respond and may not even be able to hear.

            “Victor, it’s going to be okay.” Yuuko offered softly. Victor stared out the window, pretending to not to hear her. “Victor?” He could tell Yuuko was closer. There was a gentle touch on his shoulder. “Victor, he’s going to wake up, you have to believe—” Victor shrugged off the hand on his shoulder. Yuuko sighed.

            “We brought him flowers. I hope that’s okay.” Yuuko tried again. Victor didn’t respond. Today wasn’t a good day. He was sorry, but wasn’t a good day.

            He heard another sigh and found himself to be severely irritated by the sound. He just wanted to be alone. He heard Yuuko walk away and the clink of glass settling on a hard surface. Someone must have put a vase down on the bedside table. Hushed good-byes were said and high-pitched complaints from three little girls started up. Eventually, Yuuko herded her children out of the room, leaving behind a short, clear vase of colourful daises standing tall next to a rainbow vase of yellow flowers.

 

 

~

 

 

            A few days after the triplets, Minami graced the hospital with his presence. The normally perky and bubbly Minami was a tornado of emotion. The poor kid was blubbering before he even got in the room. And when he did get to the room, he didn’t knock or even bothering to close the door behind him.

            Minami’s face distraught and broken, his big eyes shining full of tears. The skater raced across the room and literally threw himself on top of Yuri, sobbing his little heart out. Victor watched him out of the corner of his wide eyes, finding the behaviour and volume to both be quite disorienting. He was too thrown off to even get up to get the hysterical child off of his injured friend.

            After several tearful confessions and apologies that made Victor both confused and uncomfortable, Minami turned to Victor like he had just now noticed him. He slunk cautiously across the room, watching Victor like he was gauging something.

            Upon reaching Victor, the boy stared up at him for a moment. Then, he threw his arms around Victor’s torso and squeezed. Victor tensed, finding himself very uncomfortable with the sudden intimacy. He reigned in both his surprise and his flailing arms in order to awkwardly pat Minami’s trembling back.

            Eventually Minami pulled away, wiping frustratedly at his teary eyes with balled fists. Seeing that the kid was all but impaling his eyes, Victor grasped one of Minami’s wrists and pulled it away from the tear-stained face. He plucked a tissue from the quickly depleting box that sat on the table at the end of Yuri’s bed and pushed it into Minami’s clenched hand.

            Minami looked stunned for a half a second but looked up at Victor and grinned in thanks. He then turned his attention from Victor and focused on cleaning himself up. He straightened his clothes, which had rumpled from the hugging and emotional train wrecking, and gave his face one last swipe with the tissue before trudging over to the door. He glanced behind himself, casting a sad smile at Victor, then stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind himself.

 

 

~

 

 

            Yurio. Dearest, most pleasant and eloquent Yurio. Victor forgot how much he enjoyed Yurio’s company. He forgot how much he missed his friend. Just like with Minami, Yurio was heard well before he entered the room. Victor was snapped out of his lazy “people watching from the windowsill” routine by the sound of pounding feet. A few exclamations in his native tongue perked his attention and poked at his ego once he realized the exclamations were directed at himself. The heavy footsteps suddenly stopped in front of the door of the Katsuki hospital room that Victor basically lived in.

            There was a soft, insistent knock.

            Victor cocked his head at the door. Yurio normally slammed open any door in his way without asking for permission first and, if he did knock, it was louder than a thunderclap. As usual, Victor didn’t respond, and the door creaked open. A red faced Yurio stood in the doorway with his skating bag in one hand.

            The poor boy looked conflicted, glancing back and forth between the bed and Victor, who was still on the window seat. Realizing that Yurio was asking for permission, Victor nodded, not taking his eyes off his friend’s odd colouring.

            Yurio raced over to the bed, skidding to a halt just before he collided with it. He reached out both hands and laid them carefully on the edge as if he was worried that touching the bed would somehow hurt the patient. Upon realizing that he was allowed to touch the bed, Yurio advanced to squeezing the blanket with both fists.

            He stood facing Victor, while other visitors had come around the bed to stand by the blue chair, so their back was to Victor and his window. That meant Victor had never seen anyone’s face when they came into contact with Yuri for the first time since the accident. Being able to see all of the emotions flitting across Yurio’s face made Victor’s heart _ache_.

            It wasn’t until he saw the tears that he really got concerned. He tried to remember a time he ever saw Yurio cry. He couldn’t.

            “Yur…” Victor started softly.

            Yurio looked up at him suddenly, as if he forgot that there was a third person in the room. Victor rose as he saw Yurio’s already upset expression get even more distressed. Upon realizing Victor was starting to stand, Yurio backed peddled quickly. His hands were in front of his body, a defensive measure, and he was shaking his head frantically.

            Victor stepped closer, his arms spread as if to show that he wasn’t armed or about to attack. Yurio backed into a corner, looking like a trapped animal. Victor stopped when he was only inches away from Yurio, who was audibly sobbing by now.

            “What….” Victor trailed off, unable to continue.

            “I don’t know, I don’t know, _I_ _don’t_ _know!_ ” Yurio sank to the ground, his hands covering his face as his chant got louder and hoarser. “I just… I heard, and…. I heard that… you think he… and they think… and I just…” Victor gave up on trying to follow Yurio’s train in thought and slowly reached out. “No…. no, I can’t. I can’t be… can’t be selfish, I can’t— I _can’t_.” Yurio sounded as if he was talking more to himself than to Victor.

            “Yurio.”

            Glancing up at Victor with wide, wet eyes, Yurio reached an arm out hesitantly, like he was reaching for a lifeline he expected to lose before he could grasp. Victor captured the stretched hand and plopped down on the floor, pulling Yurio into his arms. He squeezed his friend as tight as possible, dragging Yurio practically across his lap. Victor’s shoulder began to dampen, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He clung so hard, his fingers went numb, and Yurio was grasping so tightly, Victor could feel nails digging into his skin.

            They only moved because, after a few moments, Yurio begin to shiver. Whether it was from the cold of the floor or the emotional exhaustion of the past months, Victor didn’t know. He coaxed Yurio off the floor and they both squished onto the bed, their hands clasped together across Yuri’s chest.

            “Hey…. Victor?” Yurio asked timidly. Timid was not a word that Victor, or anyone who knew Yurio for more than three seconds, would use to describe Yurio. “Why aren’t there any skates in here?”’

            “… skates?” Victor asked, not following.

            Yurio gave Victor a dirty look and pushed himself off the bed, grabbing his bag from where it had been abandoned on the floor. Victor tried to look over his shoulder to see what he was fiddling with inside his bag.

            “What are you…?” Victor was cut off when Yurio spun around like a whirlwind, a sharp object suddenly pointing at Victor’s face. A pair of black ice skates.

            “Yuri can’t stay somewhere without skates. He has to have skates.” Yurio glared as if daring Victor to say something in protest.

            Victor raised his arms in surrender and backed up. Yurio hugged his skates to his chest and slid off the bed. Upon seeing that there was no space on the bedside table for the skates because of the vases of flowers, he lay the skates on the bed and grabbed the vases. He set them gently on the table at the end of the bed and placed his skates just as carefully on the bedside table. With one last pat to the beloved shoes, Yurio turned to the reason he had come. Yuri.

            Yurio reached out to clutch the sleeve of Yuri’s hospital gown and began mumbling something to the injured skater under his breath. Victor couldn’t hear what Yurio was saying, but it sounded like the words “stupid” and “idiot” in their native tongue made there way into his one-sided conversation. Yurio’s hand then traveled across the Yuri to rest on the boy’s chest, which moved regularly with his breathing.

            After a few moments of watching the patient’s chest for breaths and feeling his heartbeat, Yurio turned to Victor one more time. He reached up and clenched his fist around a few silvery strands of Victor’s hair and jerked Victor’s head close so that they’re foreheads almost touched. Victor flinched, instinctively grabbing the elbow of the hand that was tugging on his hair.

            “Keep me updated. Tell me everything. About him, about you, about his family— everything. Every detail, every moment. Text me. Call me. Whatever you have to do.” Yurio demanded sharply.

            Victor nodded tightly, wincing as the movement pulled on the hair in Yurio’s grip. Yurio seemed satisfied with his response and released the hair, combing his fingers through it for a second like an apology. Then he picked up his bag and kissed his fingertips, touching those fingers to the skates on the bedside table, and then Yuri’s forehead. Then, he left.

 

 

~

 

            3 months. 92 days.

            Victor was done. He was _so_ done. Beyond done. He was laying upside down on the awful blue chair, his legs dangling over the headrest and his head hanging off the end. He clucked his tongue to the rhythm of the heart monitor that was progressively becoming more annoying by the second. He felt like he was going to die. Of sheer boredom.

            He was stressed at first. And scared. And then mostly just exhausted from all the visiting skaters and families and stress. Then he was panicking every five minutes. At one point, he hugged Yuri for two hours, sobbing onto his friend’s shoulder. He paced every inch of the room, learned how to give someone a sponge bath, helped the nurses make note of his friend’s vitals because a distraction would stop him from wearing holes in the ground for two minutes.

            Maybe it was anxiety. He could be sitting in the window seat, looking outside toward the sunny blue skies and happy, bustling people only to suddenly find himself unable to breathe. He could be next to Yuri, holding the boy’s hand and talking about Makkachin, who he hadn’t been able to see in months, and he’d suddenly start shaking like an earthquake.

            But, all of a sudden, it disappeared and was replaced with impatience. “Yuri wake up so we can go skating” and “Yuri come on I want to sit by the shore and talk with you.” Victor had accidentally normalized the situation. It was as if Yuri was no longer in a possibly-most-likely-life-threatening coma but was instead just really lazy and slept too much.

            And now he was just trying to distract himself so he could hold onto that normalized view because it was so much easier than panic and fear. To distract himself, he counted the big white spotted tiles on the ceiling, which was normal enough. He discovered how to tie a cherry stem with his tongue in three days. He, honest to God, sunk so low as to play hopscotch on the square floor tiles, which amused the nurses. But now that the storming flood of emotions was gone, all he was left with was _boredom_.

            Groaning, Victor awkwardly spun around so his legs were dangling over one arm of the chair and his torso was draped across the other one. Sighing, he pulled himself upright and glanced at his friend.

            Blip.

            Blip.

            Blip.

            Stupid heart monitor and its stupid false hope and its stupid hovering nurses and its stupid arrogant doctors and their stupid practical clipboards and their stupid useless apologies.

            “They keep saying that the longer you’re in this coma, the worse the damage to your brain is gonna be.” Victor warned as he plopped on the bed, facing the window.

            He felt a bit ridiculous talking to someone who couldn’t respond, and probably couldn’t hear, but every time he did talk to Yuri, he felt a weight lift from his chest, his shoulders, his heart, his everything. Victor was embarrassed by the positive effects of talking to an unconscious person, but he was willing to do anything, if it meant two minutes of peace.

            “With all the time you’ve spent in that coma, your brain must be mush. I doubt you can even talk anymore.” Victor added bitterly.

            Victor was becoming a little dark and twisty inside because of this stupid coma thing. He was so agitated and annoyed all the time. Little things ticked him off and made him want to blow up something. Like how everyone was always asking how he was feeling. Victor hated it when people asked how he was feeling. They always told him not to lie when he said he was okay, but if he did tell the truth, everyone would look at him with the same pitying expression and tell him to be strong. He was even irritated with Mr. Katsuki, who would pet his shoulder and muss his hair. The man was just trying to bring some comfort, but Victor no longer felt warm when he did it.

            Victor felt pathetic. Here he was, a grown man with a fantastic career and a magnificent reputation, sitting in a hospital room, needing to talk to an unconscious person and to be hugged by said unconscious person’s dad in order to make it through the day. Victor was just glad that paparazzi had somehow been forced away so no one would see him like this. This shell of himself.

            He wasn’t sure what was keeping paparazzi out of the hospital. Either there was a Hulk on the security team, or they felt really badly for what was happening. What happened, really. The only thing that was _happening_ was nothing, But paparazzi wasn’t in the dark for long.

            When paparazzi had found out, Twitter and Instagram crashed within the first twenty minutes. Hashtags were flying across screens, and likes, and hearts, and smiley faces were blowing up Victor’s phone. His feed was clogged with words of support and videos of memorials.

            _Memorials_.

            These people were acting like Yuri was already dead. Victor couldn’t even bring himself to care that pictures of him sobbing and covered in dirt and being hugged by Yuri’s parents in the middle of a hospital waiting room were floating around. He just wished people would stop making a sideshow or a “feel better about yourself by clicking like on this sad video of a person’s life before they died even though they’re not dead yet, just soon to be dead” fiesta over the fact that he felt like the one rock in his life was slipping away.

            Victor focused his all and his everything on his friend. Realistically, Victor knew there was nothing he could actually do about the coma thing, but just sitting with his friend made Victor feel as if he were helping. Really, Victor was just helping himself. Like always. Selfish.

            Now that it seemed like Victor had more time on his hands, he went through the posts, commenting on them, liking them, wanting at least to keep his fans’ hopes up. They mostly wanted to know what affects Yuri would face if he woke up.

            Victor knew the effects.

            He knew what could go wrong. He knew what could happen when Yuri woke up. He knew that every day was getting closer to “if” and farther from “when.” He knew about memory loss, and speech impediments, and motor function issues, and migraines, and changes in personality— he knew it all. He had a front row seat, after all.

            Victor threw himself backwards, lying across Yuri’s legs and staring up at the ceiling, which he could say with certainty had 57 tiles. He had given in to measuring some of the smaller tiles that had gotten cut short so they would fit in the ceiling up against the edge of the wall, and came to the conclusion that all the partial tiles made up 10 full tiles when put together, which he added to his original count of 47 full tiles, bringing him to 57. Victor winced as knees dug into his spine, and he squirmed lightly to find a better position.

            “Yuri, you’re not comfortable.” He grumbled.

            “I’m sorry?”

            “It’s fine,” Victor murmured, lacing his fingers together on his chest.

            What.

            Wait.

            Hold up.

            What.

            Victor’s eyes flew open and he jerked up, turning sharply to stare down at the owner of the voice. In his process of sitting up quickly, Victor had overestimated how wide the bed was and slid right off, landing on his bum with an unimpressive thud.

             “Yuri?”


	7. Healing and Forgetting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri!!! On Ice  
> This is for a lovely friend who accidentally gave me some good ideas for this chapter. Also, big thanks to Leradomi for tolerating my questions about comas (and apologies for disregarding half of your answers)!  
> So lotsa OoC business here, and some big time skips. I don’t specify them or how long they are, but hopefully they’re implied well enough. This may be a bit of a dull chapter, but I tried to spruce it up a bit.

Ch7— Healing and Forgetting

 

_The world was an ice rink. An endless frozen puddle. And Yuri was standing on it in his worn, black skates._

_The chilly wind swirled snowflakes that danced and glinted, shining silver in the sunlight._

_An image flashed quickly, jarringly across Yuri’s vision. He was looking down at a bowed head of silver hair belonging to a man who was kneeling to tighten the laces of Yuri’s skate. The man raised his head but, just before Yuri caught a glimpse of his face, the man was gone._

_Yuri frowned._

_He didn’t know anyone with silver hair, but an odd feeling of familiarity brushed through his mind, regardless. As he tried to think of who the man was, Yuri skated forwards, gently gliding across the ice as if on a stroll down a sidewalk._

_It was peacefully quiet until Yuri heard the sound of another pair of skates scraping against the ice. Yuri spun in a lazy circle, trying to locate the skater. There was no one._

_Turning around once again to try to find the skater, Yuri noticed a line of tall, dark green trees standing behind him. He skated towards the tree line until he could see the dark, scraggly roots reaching down beneath the ice floor, seeming to stretch on forever. Yuri glanced back up at the forest line. The sounds of skates were definitely coming from that way._

_Upon getting closer, Yuri began to see flickers of movement and colour between the trees that loomed over him at incredible heights. It looked a bright, reddish-pink colour was flitting around just beyond the tree line. Intrigued, Yuri skated closer, attempting to keep his skates as silent as possible so he wouldn’t scare the other skater._

_Once he was a few feet from the tree line, Yuri could finally make out what was behind the trees. It a man skating with a kind of desperation and fire that made Yuri’s heart ache. He performed complex and intricate moves with the precision and grace of a professional and Yuri was hypnotized. He was almost disappointed when the man came to a stop with his back towards Yuri._

“ _Excuse me?” Yuri called out, voice awkwardly thunderous in the now silent space. “Who you are?”_

_The man didn’t respond. Just when Yuri was about to call out again, the man turned around. Yuri was too far away to really see the man’s features, but he saw him reach out an arm invitingly. The stranger’s face turning brighter, as well, probably by a smile. His silver hair shone in the sunlight like snowflakes._

_Yuri skated forward hesitantly, stopping when he heard the man speak. It was hard to focus on what he was saying, but Yuri managed to catch a snippet._

“….’re not comfortable.”

“ _I’m sorry?” he attempted to say, but his throat was tight. It felt like something was choking him. Yuri slammed to the ground on his knees, gagging to loosen whatever was stuck in his throat. Each time he coughed or retched, the ground shook like it was having aftershocks from an earthquake._

_After a particularly loud, long cough, Yuri heard a crackling sound. Glancing down, he saw spiderweb fractures splitting the ice between the fingers of the hand he had planted firmly on the ice to keep himself upright._

_Another cough caused more crackling and the tiny etched lines in the ice raced away. And suddenly it all gave, and Yuri began to fall through emptiness with ice fragments tinkling down around him like rain._

 

~

 

            Actually, the sound Yuri made wasn’t an apology for being uncomfortable. It was more like a choking, hacking cough around the thick breathing tube that was in his throat, but Victor got the message.

             “Yuri… you’re… I mean, you can… is…” Victor grasped for words, still sprawled awkwardly across the floor where he’d fallen. Then he realized Yuri was trying to forcefully tug the tube out of his throat.

            “Nurse!” Victor shouted, breathless from the exuberance of seeing Yuri awake. He couldn’t seem to get enough air in his lungs for a loud enough shout.

            Throwing himself across his friend’s torso, Victor forced Yuri to stop pulling by attempting to restrain him. It was like trying to wrestle a rattlesnake. The whole bed rattled and shook, and the heart monitor was going wild. This only aggravated Yuri further.

            _“Nurse!”_ He practically screamed, still trying to keep Yuri from accidentally strangling himself with the breathing tube.

            The sound of squeaky shoes and shouting filled the room as nurses filed in. The male doctor that Victor hated most (the one with slick, blonde hair that was as greasy as the jerk’s personality) tried to pry Yuri’s grip off of Victor so he could move, but Yuri wasn’t having it.

            Between coughs and wheezes, Yuri was letting out croaky, wordless yells that made him sound like he was possessed. He was also gripping Victor’s wrists like a vice, refusing to let go. Victor didn’t know much about comas, but he knew enough about physical fitness to realize that a few months of zero physical activity and constant bedrest should _not_ leave a person this strong.

            “Kid, we have to get you off your friend or we won’t be able to help him,” the doctor explained in the “I am God, do as I say” voice.

            Yuri snarled so violently that Victor found himself feeling proud of his student for fighting despite his weakened state. Victor turned his attention on the nurses who were taking vitals and working on the tube as if Victor wasn’t even there.

            “He doesn’t want me to go,” Victor told the doctor as if that decided it. Because it did.

            “Honey, I need you to let out a big cough on three, okay?” Nurse Rein said to Yuri gently. Yuri seemed to not be having any of that coughing business, as his focus solely on Victor.       

              “Son, I understand that you don’t want to leave your friend, but you have to let go so these ladies and I can do our job,” the doctor said pointedly. Sighing, Victor clambered off the bed, but Yuri’s grip on his hand kept him close to the bed. The doctor didn’t look happy with that but didn’t say anything.

            “On three, Baby,” Nurse Rein said again, still trying to get Yuri’s attention on her. “One. Two. Three.”

            The nurse pulled the tube out of Yuri’s mouth as he let out a ragged cough that sounded immensely painful, and everyone turned their focus to vitals and such. Victor paid them no mind and watched Yuri give a few more full body coughs. Victor helped Yuri sit upright, hoping it would help his breathing, and rubbed circles on his friend’s bony back as the rattling coughs continued. Eventually they tapered off into heavy breathing.

            “Are you okay?” Victor asked nervously. Yuri glanced up at him dazedly, mouth gaping in effort to gather as much air as possible in each breath.

            “Didn’t think so.” Victor muttered, pulling the limp body to rest against his own. Yuri was like a ragdoll. He couldn’t hold himself upright, and he didn’t seem to be able to speak either. Victor accepted a tissue offered by a nurse to dry some of the drool on Yuri’s face and listened intently as Yuri’s condition was explained to him.

            “If he nods off a lot, don’t worry. His body is exhausted, so he’ll be doing a lot of sleeping, but we’ll still be watching him closely to make sure he doesn’t fall into another coma,” Nurse Tara said as she adjusted Yuri’s pillows so he could sit up on his own.

            “He also might not be able to do much for a while and could even need therapy for things like talking and walking. The doctor will come by later to explain everything in fuller detail,” Nurse Rein said, putting a warm hand on Victor’s shoulder.

            “Another coma?” Victor whispered. It was so overwhelming. His friend was back but could still slip away. “I understand.” Victor said as steadily as he could manage. Nurse Tara gave him a weak smile.

            “We’ll go notify the rest of the family,” she said as she and Nurse Rein shuffled out the door, closing it softly behind them.

            “Yuri, you have no idea how glad everybody is going to be now that you’re—” Victor paused when he glanced down to see his friend’s eyes closed again, “asleep.” He poked his friend’s cheek and grinned when Yuri twitched. Just asleep.

 

~

 

            Victor was kind of… pissed. Yuri came back. All the way. Awake, alert, sort of speaking (not really) and his vitals were mostly within the normal, healthy ranges for everything. After months of waiting, everything was okay, and Yuri had finally woken up— only to fall right back to sleep.

            The doctors said it wasn’t another coma. The nurses said it wasn’t another coma. Mrs. Katsuki, recently educated through various medical websites, said it wasn’t another coma.

            That meant it couldn’t be a coma. Right?

            Victor glanced down at the bed where his student lay. He had to admit that Yuri looked better. His complexion had flushed, which was much better than the corpse-white pallor he’d had been before. Victor wasn’t sure what he was hoping for.

            He couldn’t expect Yuri to jump up out of bed after the end of a 3-month coma, ready to skate. He couldn’t expect someone who hadn’t moved on their own or spoken for three months to be able to function normally. Wishful thinking was a powerful thing but, sometimes, it wasn’t powerful enough.

            Instead of celebrating the recovery of his friend, Victor found himself still sitting watchfully in the same chair beside the same large bed that held the same small body. Here he was, days after Yuri’s “first awakening,” as Mari called it, in the same position as he had been before. Waiting.

            Waiting was the worst thing about it. Victor’s mind was constantly at war, battling between “it’s going to be fine, Yuri’s strong, the heavens love us and will give us this miracle” and “it’s too much, Yuri’s fought so hard and he might not be able to do this, God wants us to burn.” It was driving him mad.

            “Yuri, _please_ ,” Victor whined, flopping his torso across the edge of the bed. “You are _killing_ _me_ ,” he groaned. He picked at Yuri’s blanket, watching his fingers pluck the scratchy fabric. He was well aware that he looked pathetic, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when Yuri was so close to being healed, yet so far away.

            Moving his restless fingers from the blanket to Yuri’s hand, Victor began drawing lazy circles on the almost translucent skin. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing here. What he was doing at all. Yuri was his thing. Teaching Yuri, helping Yuri, sharing advice and experiences with Yuri. That’s what Victor did. And he lost that.

            Victor unconsciously squeezed the hand he had been doodling across with his finger. He was not prepared, however, for the light squeeze back. Victor flinched, scrambling to his feet without detaching his hand from Yuri’s.

            “Yuri?” he asked breathlessly. His inquiry was met with silence. “Yuri, are you awake?” Yuri grimaced; eyes still closed. “You can hear me, can’t you, lazybones?” This time it was a finger twitch. Victor grinned.

            “Can you wake up for me, Yuri? Please?” Victor begged.

            Nothing.

            “Yuri, please…. I need…”

            Finger twitch.

            “Please, I— I have to see you. I need to see you.”

            Eyelids fluttered open.

            “Wow. I did not think that was going to work.”

            Yuri gazed dully up at Victor. He looked like a toddler whose afternoon nap had been disturbed.

            “Hi, Yuri.” Victor whispered in a breathy, babyish voice. Victor reminded himself that this was an adult, he was talking to, not a child.

            “How are you feeling?” Victor asked anxiously.

            The only response was a sluggish blink.

            “Do you need me to call the nurse to get you something?”

            Another blink.

            “Are you thirsty? If you can handle ice chips, I can get you some.”

            Blink.

            “Can you understand me? Can you hear me, Yuri?”

            At the sound of his name, Yuri’s facial muscles twitched again. Other than that, he remained still and silent. Victor sighed.

            “Stop getting your hopes up, they said he’s got a long road to recovery.” Victor scolded himself, slumping dejectedly into the hard chair next to the bed. Yuri’s eyes followed him. Victor cocked his head. He was positive that those big, dark eyes were following him.

            “Are you watching me?” Victor asked curiously, still using that obnoxious, high pitched baby voice. Yuri blinked again, but his eyes stayed closed. He was asleep.

            Victor sighed. He knew Yuri couldn’t control what his body let him do, and he was well aware that Yuri went through a pretty physically and mentally traumatizing event, but that did nothing to quell the frustration that blossomed in Victor’s chest.

 

~

 

            “Yuri, try to lift your finger.”

            Whine.

            “ _Yuri_. Try to lift your finger. Just try.”

            Whine.

            “ _Yuri_.”

            Throaty hiss.

            The nurses had given Victor a couple of exercises to try with Yuri: lift a finger, look to the left, simple tasks like that. They said Yuri probably wouldn’t do the tasks perfectly, but that the goal was to get Yuri listening and responding. One of the biggest things they stressed was to not get too irritated if Yuri struggled with or refused to do the exercises. It was very hard to keep his frustration in check.

            “Yuri, just try. I know you’re annoyed, but you’ll get it if you keep trying. You’ll never know if you just sit here and mope.” Victor said in what he hoped was a supportive voice.

            Yuri let out a growl that sounded like an amazing imitation of an angry bear.

            “Yuri—”

_“No!”_

            Victor froze and jerked back. Yuri said a word. Like, an actual word. Granted, it sounded more like a grunt than a word, but the intention was clear and there was a distinct “n” sound and an “o” shaped vowel to follow it.

            “Yuri did you just…”

            “No,” the boy repeated with pure awe.

            “You said something! You said a word!” Victor cried as Yuri puttered away, saying “no” over and over again, his tone getting brighter as Victor’s grin grew. A few nurses scrambled in, one holding a half-drunk coffee and another holding an armful of binders and charts.

            “Say it again, say it again!” Nurse Leigh pleaded, nearly spilling coffee on herself with her enthusiasm.

            “Come on, Yuri, tell the us what you said!” Nurse Tara cajoled along with her.

            There was a moment of silence as Yuri’s brow furrowed and he licked his lips, drool dripping from the corners of his mouth because of the still clumsy muscles. Victor rested a hand on Yuri’s shoulder and grinned at him supportively when the boy glanced up uncertainly at him.

            “No!” Yuri belted. The nurses praised his work, and Yuri basked in their attention, practically glowing. The room went quiet once the nurses filtered out, heading back to work and to make note of Yuri’s improvement. After a moment of still peace, Victor spoke up.

            “Yuri, try to lift your finger.”

            “No!”

~

 

            Victor taking a long sip from his coffee as he stood in the elevator. He hated elevators. They were so slow. He hadn’t had to deal with them when he was living in the hospital, because he lived in Yuri’s room. But, now that he was living at home again because Yuri was pretty far out of the danger zone for falling back into a coma or anything else bad happening, he had to use the elevator.

            He had just spent three days at home with Makkachin, who had gotten sick from eating God-knows-what and was more than ready to see his friend again. Yuri was improving so much every day, Victor had a feeling he would be back to normal in no time.

            “I hate hospitals.” Victor muttered as he stepped out of the elevator and nearly got run down by a gurney being raced down the hall.

            He licked the splotch of coffee that fell onto his fingerless gloves, making a strange face at the fuzz his tongue picked up from the knitted fabric. He swaggered down the hall, a hand in the pocket and the other gripping his coffee loosely. The hospital was just as loud as he remembered: the soft chatter of the nurses, the beeping of equipment, the shouting of people pushing gurneys down the hall, and so on.

            “Victor!” a nurse shouted, coming up behind him.

            “Nashi!” Victor slowed to let Nashi catch up. She pushed her thick rimmed glasses back up on her little nose and grinned up at Victor.

            “Last I heard, Yuri is still doing fantastically,” she said with a grin. “We can’t really guess things, but we’re guessing he’ll be completely fluent in no time. He just struggles to find words when he gets emotional, but he’s making progress to get past that.”

            “That’s amazing! I knew he was doing well, but I had no idea…” Victor said, feeling a bit stunned and incredibly lucky. He waved goodbye as he made his way down the hall, feeling a bit lighter.

            “Morning Yuri!” Victor said as he burst into the hospital room he used to live in. Yuri was sitting upright and was grinning brightly up at his mother, carrying on a conversation that seemed relatively effortless, to Victor.

            Then Yuri looked up and saw Victor. He looked confused and a bit lost for a moment, like he was trying to think of something to say.

            “H-hi, Yuri.” Victor grinned tentatively. He couldn’t wait to hear Yuri say his name. The way Yuri said the name “Victor” always sent tingles chasing Victor’s skin. He was so excited to talk to Yuri, he thought his heart might burst out of his chest. Yuri looked at him with those big, beautiful eyes and Victor felt his skin start to heat up. Here it comes, here it comes—

            “I’m…. sorry….” Yuri trailed off with a hauntingly blank look. “Do I know you?”

            And just like that, Victor’s world shattered.

 

~

 

            “The universe hates me,” Victor complained, dropping his forehead onto the table as Mr. Katsuki chuckled at him.

            After Yuri announced that he had no idea who Victor was, Victor had run out of the room with Mr. Katsuki hot on his tail. No matter what Mr. Katsuki said, or how he tried to make Victor feel better with false promises of how Yuri would eventually remember him, Victor felt totally and completely done.

            He had lived in the stupid hospital for so long, he’d forgotten what real coffee and real tea tasted like. He’d forgotten what it was like to sleep without the beeping of a heart monitor in the background. He’d forgotten what it was like to sit in comfortable chairs and use soft blankets.

            Before his three-day vacation to home, his skin had been dry and thin, his eyes always felt heavy, his head ached, his hair was stringy— he felt and looked horrible. He was terrified for months that he would lose his friend, and for weeks after until they were in the clear and sure Yuri wouldn’t fall back into a coma.

            Victor didn’t go through all that just to be forgotten. But he didn’t think he had it in him to go through any more days watching a confused and blank Yuri try to adjust and get back to normal. He didn’t think he had it in him at all to watch a confused Yuri try to remember him.

            “I know it seems like that, but the doctors said his amnesia is temporary—”

            “ _Probably_.” Victor cut in loudly. “They said that it was _probably_ temporary.” Mr. Katsuki sighed and took a long sip of coffee. “I don’t even get how he forgot me. He seemed to recognize me the first time he woke up. What happened?”

            “Well... he was pretty disoriented. Maybe he just got attached to the first person he saw when he woke up, which was always you. You know how baby birds bond with whoever they see when they first hatch? Maybe Yuri is like that.” Mr. Katsuki frowned at the oddness of his own analogy.

            “Yuri is… my baby bird?”

            “It makes sense, doesn’t it? He bonded closely and suddenly to who he saw as a stranger.”

            “But every day we were getting closer and closer,” Victor said frustratedly.

            “Maybe it was like that for you, but for him… he could’ve been meeting you as a new person every day. The doctor did say something about Yuri having issues making new memories, especially about people—” Mr. Katsuki stopped speaking when he saw the look on Victor’s face.

            “Victor, no one said this was going to be easy.” Mr. Katsuki said firmly. “I realize this is very hard for you, and I know that you and Yuri have been through a lot together, but I need you to understand something. Just because it’s hard to be together, doesn’t mean you should stop being here for him,” Mr. Katsuki sighed.

            “Victor, you mean a lot to Yuri. Without you… I don’t even want to think about—” Mr. Katsuki looked down as if whatever he was thinking physically hurt. “Yuri was always lonely. Kept to himself. Not good with people. He’s a good person, but people have always… overlooked him. You really brought him out of his shell. We really owe you for the great man Yuri has become. So… thank you.” Mr. Katsuki’s eyes started watering. “Thank you for saving my son. But please don’t give up on him yet. Not while he needs you most.” Victor reached across the table and clasped his hands around Mr. Katsuki’s.

            “I’m not going anywhere,” Victor said.

 

~

 

            “You have to talk to him.”

            “Except for the fact that I don’t.”

            “Don’t get snarky with me just because your boyfriend doesn’t know who you are.”

            “He’s not my boyfriend.”

            “Keep telling yourself that,” Mari said under her breath, stabbing a straw into her blue slushie

            “Shut up— go talk to your brother. I’m sure you’re thrilled he remembers you.” Victor said bitterly, feeling particularly sorry for himself.

            “Look, I get that you’re upset. But just remember, you aren’t the only one he forgot,” Mari informed him around a mouthful of slushie.

            “How’s that?” Victor asked, interest piqued.

            “He doesn’t remember any of your skating buddies,” she said matter of factly, taking an obnoxiously loud slurp from her drink.

            “Seriously?” Victor asked, momentarily thrown off his pity party. “None of them?”

            “Not a one.”

            “How do you know this?” Victor asked suspiciously. Mari shrugged casually.

            “I asked him.”

            “And he doesn’t remember _any_ of us?”

            “Not you, not Phichit, not Chris, not Minami, not Otabek, not Yurio—”

            “He doesn’t remember Yurio?” Victor demanded.

            “Well, no. He doesn’t remember any of you, I said that— I did say that didn’t I?”

            “Oh _no_. Yurio’s going to be destroyed.” Victor covered his mouth with one hand and clenched his phone with a death grip in the other.

            “I thought that little twerp didn’t even like Yuri,” Mari said, waving off his concern.

            “He may act that way, but he loves Yuri to pieces. They’re like… siblings,” Victor answered distractedly, wondering how he was going to break the news to Yurio.

            “That’s…”

            “I know.”

            “…kind of adorable.”

            “Yeah, don’t tell him that.”

            “Sure thing. But, uh…”

            “Yeah?”

            “Well…” Mari said with a shrug.

            “Mari, what are you not telling me?” Victor asked.

            “Yurio may have called us up to see if he could visit today…”

            “Oh, no.”

            “Oh, yes.”

            “ _Oh n_ —”

            “Oh, look, that’s him now,” Mari said, waving across the cafeteria to a moody Yurio. “Yurio, you’re late.”

            “Whatever. Yuri’s fault for getting in a stupid coma, anyways. I wouldn’t have to be here, if he didn’t. And how am I supposed to train when my competition is in bed sick or whatever? If I keep training, I have a leg up on him— I don’t need a leg up. I’m going to beat him fair and square! So, where is he? Mrs. Katsuki told me he was up and talking.” Yurio cocked hip and glared down at Mari and Victor, waiting for answers. Mari snorted at Victor’s panicked expression.

            “What? What’s wrong?” Yurio asked tensely, bristling like a cat when neither of them responded.

            “Um, there’s sort of a, well, situation…” Victor trailed off.

            “Yuri may not remember you.” Mari said. Yurio’s eyes dimmed.

            “Geez, Mari, way to break it to him gently,” Victor muttered. “He doesn’t remember me, either. Or anyone from the skating world, actually.”

            “How can he not remember _you_?” Yurio demanded before shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. He’ll remember me. He has to,” Yurio insisted defensively.

            “Okay, but prepare yourself. He may not remember you,” Victor said, standing up. He offered one hand to Yurio, who clung to it instead of getting offended and causing a scene about how he didn’t need to hold anyone’s hand.

            The walk to the room was silent and awkward with Yurio getting increasingly agitated and worried, Victor getting increasingly anxious by the minute, and Mari seeming comfortable the whole time.

            Victor stopped them just outside of Yuri’s room, his hand poised above the doorknob as he turned to warn Yurio one last time. He received a weak glare before he even said anything, so he just sighed and opened the door.

            “First off, I have something for Yuri,” Mari announced, slipping between Victor and Yurio, clutching to her chest a backpack that Victor hadn’t noticed her holding before. “I don’t know why no one thought to bring these over earlier, but oh well,” she said as she plopped down on the bed by Yuri’s legs and rummaged through her bag.

            Yuri looked up from a scrapbook he had open in his lap. The Katsuki family had been bringing things from Yuri’s past to the hospital in an effort to get Yuri to remember more. So far, he remembered that he skated, but he couldn’t remember his skating friends, or anything about the competitions he was in. So, his family brought medals, pictures, costumes, trinkets— anything they could think of that might spike a memory.

            “I found these at home, kid,” Mari said, pulling something out of her bag. Yuri’s eyes lit up when he peeked over his sister’s shoulder to see what she had for him. He grinned and held out his hands, flexing them in a “gimmie, gimmie” fashion. Laughing, Mari handed the object to Yuri, who cradled it to his chest. Yurio and Victor peered around Mari, scooting into the room a bit farther so they could see what Yuri was holding.

            It was Yuri’s ice skates.

            “Do you recognize them?” Mari asked hopefully while Victor drank in the image of Yuri holding his skates, which was something he hadn’t realized he missed. Yuri looked down at the skates thoughtfully, stroking the blades as he nibbled his lower lip in concentration.

            “I recognize them…” Yuri started. “I recognize them, but I don’t know from where.” A sigh was felt throughout the room. “It’s like… I know they’re important to me, but I don’t remember why. I know I used to skate...” Yuri sighed, obviously frustrated.

            “This is just… all so frustrating,” Yuri admitted, sounding angry with himself. “I know everyone wants me to remember— _I_ want me to remember— and I know that it hurts everyone, the more they see that I don’t remember things…. I’m trying… it’s just… half my life is on the tip of my tongue.”

            “I’m sorry,” he said softly, hugging his skates. Mari sighed.

            “It’s not your fault,” she said firmly. “Keep the skates, maybe you’ll remember something.”

            “Yeah… maybe,” Yuri looked uncertain, but he grinned weakly when Mari patted his head. She turned to Yurio and Victor.

            “You’re up,” she said. Yurio wasted no time marching over to Yuri’s bed and standing in front of it, posing like a model.

            “I’m Yurio. Do you remember me?” His voice was almost pleading.

            “Ah, so you’re the owner of these, correct?” Yuri asked in a gravelly voice, one arm hugging his own skates as the other pointed to a pair that sat on his bedside table. Yurio lit up like a Christmas tree.

            “Yeah, you remember?” Yurio asked, straightening. The hope in his voice was so tangible in his voice that it was painful. Yuri bit his lip and looked down.

            “Er, no… no I just— I just asked whose shoes they were and one of the nurses told me. Sorry.” Yuri seemed ashamed.

            Yurio deflated.

            “You… don’t remember me?” he asked so quietly, that it almost wasn’t heard at all.

            “I am so…  sorry,” Yuri grimaced. “I really… I’m just… I…” Yuri tried to scrap together something to make Yurio feel better, but he was cut off.

            “That’s fine. Can I have my skates back, please?” Yurio demanded, holding a hand out expectantly. Victor gave him a scandalized look. Yurio said he wanted Yuri to have the skates for the duration of his hospital stay for many reasons, one of which being that he didn’t want to skate while he knew Yuri couldn’t. So, why in the world would he ask for the skates back?

            “But…. You gave them to me….” Yuri muttered uncertainly.

            “Yeah, and I want them back—”

            “I can’t be in a room without skates,” Yuri whispered. Yurio froze.

            “What?” he asked incredulously. Victor’s heart skipped a beat. Was Yuri remembering, or did someone else tell him that recently?

            “I can’t be in a room without skates,” Yuri said in a stronger voice.

            “Yes, well, you have skates. Of your own. You don’t need mine.” Yurio stated flatly. Victor gave Yurio a look, but he went ignored. What was going on in Yurio’s head?

            “I… I guess if you need them…” Yuri seemed almost unwilling to part with Yurio’s skates.

            “Yes, I need them. They’re mine. Hand them over please.” Yuri bit his lip, looking miserable, but he did as he was asked. Trembling arms set Yuri’s own skates down for a moment, trading them for the ability to hug Yurio’s for just a second before passing them off. Yurio all but snatched his skates out of Yuri’s hands and was about to storm off, when Yuri stopped him.

            “Thank you, Yurio. Please visit more often so I can remember you. I think… I think if I could remember you now, I’d be very pleased to see you.” Yuri said politely, settling into the pillows on his bed. Yurio turned abruptly, his blonde hair falling into his eyes as he gripped his skates tightly. He swooped out of the room without so much as a goodbye. Yuri sighed and turned to Victor and Mari.

            “You should go after him. He’s probably… he’s really upset. You should help him.” Victor nodded, surprised at Yuri’s intuition and got up to leave.

            Victor didn’t have to go far on his hunt for Yurio. He found him leaning against the wall outside of Yuri’s door, hunched and clutching his skates to his chest. Victor reached out and put a hand on Yurio’s shoulder lightly, testing the waters before diving in. When Yurio turned so that his forehead rested on Victor’s shoulder, Victor knew it was safe.

            Victor pulled Yurio tightly to his chest and muttered softly into his friend’s blonde hair. Yurio continued to hug the skates tightly and Victor continued to hold his friend’s pieces together.


	8. Memory Lane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> I can’t stay in a POV I’m sorry. Also this is edited. Ish.  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Yuri!!! On Ice  
> I’m still having issues making everybody stay in character and the whole “Yuri was just in a coma, he can’t heal overnight” thing, so if it gets too unrealistic, let me know. I want to make this story as real as possible.  
> Enjoy!

CH 8— Memory Lane

 

            “I’m sorry.”

            Victor grit his teeth and dropped his head into his hands.

            “Victor… are you okay? ’m sorry.” The soft voice drifted across the room.

            “No, I am _not_ okay, now would you please— _please_ — stop apologizing,” Victor begged. Yuri sat with his blankets pooled around his waist, big brown eyes looking very confused.

            Victor let out a frustrated groan and stomped over to his window seat. Staring out the window, he shoved his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt, his body so tense his shoulders reached his ears.

            “He’s not going to stop, so you might as well get used to it,” Yurio muttered, chucking a small bouncy ball against the wall. It slammed against the plaster with a thunderous thwack and flew back at him, sailing over his head to hit the wall just inches from Yuri, who flinched and dove to the side.

              “Watch the flying objects! He just came out of a coma and we don’t need another one,” Victor said as Yuri picked up the ball that had landed on his bed. Yurio rolled his eyes and jerked out of the way when Yuri attempted to throw the ball back.

            “Learn how to aim, idiot,” Yurio huffed as he tucked the ball away in his bag.

            “Yuri, don’t throw things. The doctor said for you to take it easy,” Victor nagged.

            Yuri flopped back against the headboard of his bed with a sigh, and Yurio plopped down on the cold floor. He propped his chin up on his knee and pouted at Victor, who pointedly ignored him. It was finally quiet.

            “Sorry,” Yuri blurted out, slapping his hands to his mouth.

            “You were doing so great—” Victor whined, flopping onto the chair beside Yuri’s bed. “You stopped apologizing for like five minutes, that’s the new record.”

            “Oh— s-sorry. I mean— I feel bad about all this,” Yuri attempted to appease Victor but found himself to be making it worse.

            “Why do you keep apologizing? Just tell us, we’ll understand,” Victor promised.

            “Leave him alone, he’s just weird,” Yurio said, stretching his legs out across the floor and crossing his arms comfortably.

            Yuri, however, looked extremely uncomfortable. He glanced down at his lap and began smoothing the wrinkles out of the blanket that lay over his legs, avoiding the watchful stares of the two people who came to visit almost every day.

            “Yuri? Are you okay?” Victor asked, standing.

            Yuri flinched violently, making the whole bed rattle. Victor hopped three steps back hands balled into fists, clutched closely to his chest. Yurio stood up slowly, startled out of his passive attitude.

              “Yuri…” Yurio seemed as if he was trying to say something but wasn’t sure how to. He glared at the ground, looking as frustrated as Victor felt.

            “It’s fine, it’s nothing. I’m sor—” Yuri said, pulling his own knees into a hug as if trying to hide behind them.

            “Shut up before I come over there and make you,” Yurio hissed

            “Yurio, calm down. Yuri, no one is going to hurt you. Can’t you just—” Victor cut himself off and folded his hands together, taking a deep breath. “Can you tell us what’s going on?” Yuri didn’t respond immediately and seemed to be trying to make himself invisible.          

            “I just...” Yuri dropped his face into his hands and whined pathetically.

            Victor stepped closer and tried to pull Yuri’s fists away from his face but found that Yuri wasn’t giving in anytime soon. He settled for holding Yuri’s wrists awkwardly in a way he hoped was comforting for his upset friend.

            “I still can’t remember,” came the miserable answer. Victor looked at Yurio over the top of Yuri’s head.

            ‘What do I do?’ he mouthed. Yurio threw his arms around in a violent ‘I don’t know, why are you asking me’ gesture.

            “You guys are so nice, and I don’ even know who you are,” Yuri said, his voice increasingly warbled from his coming tears. Victor looked alarmed and Yurio looked stricken. Yuri didn’t notice, his focus solely on stopping his tears. “And— and I’m trying. I really a-am. I just… I just, there’s nothing there!” Yuri growled, pointing jerkily to his head. “Why are you guys even here? You shouldn’t even be here.”

            “We’re here because we want to help,” Victor said honestly, hands moving to rest on Yuri’s shaking shoulders.

            “No, you don’t. You just want the old Yuri— the one you think you know. You want him back,” Yuri sighed, resting his forehead on his fists. “Just go— go.” He whispered.

            “What?” Yurio asked, sounding thoroughly offended.

            “G-go, go, he’s not coming back! The Yuri you know is gone,” Yuri said firmly, thrashing in Victor’s grip. Victor unconsciously tightened his hands around Yuri’s shoulders.

            “We’re not going anywhere,” Victor said just as firmly, feeling frustrated.

            “Leave me _alone,”_ Yuri snarled, getting more agitated by the second. His voice echoed through the room, bouncing off the high ceilings. Victor released him as if he was burned and leapt back.

            “Yuri, are you oka—”

            “Don’t talk to me,” Yuri demanded.

            “Yuri, please—”

            “Leave. Me. Alone.” Yuri bit out, fists twisting the hospital blanket across his lap.

            Victor flinched at the angry voice. Yuri was so irritable and angry. But sometimes he was just quiet and distant. And other times he was his usual bubbly and cheerful self. And when he wasn’t himself, it was like talking to a stranger. Maybe Yuri was right. Maybe the old Yuri was never coming back.

 

~

 

            Victor asked the doctors about personality changes. He wanted to know how long it would take for personality changes to go away. Yuri was strong. Victor was convinced he would recover. But when he voiced these optimistic thoughts, the doctors just smiled with a pitying expression.

            Victor’s favourite doctor, a man with a grandfatherly face and a kind smile, had said that he had no doubt that Yuri was strong. But he said that Victor and the others should prepare themselves, nonetheless. Everyone in the hospital was always telling people to “prepare” themselves, but they never said what to prepare against. They never said how to prepare and how much to prepare.

            Later, Victor learned that “prepare yourself” was a nice way of saying “we don’t know what’s happening or what’s going to happen but expect the worst.” Hope for the best but expect the worst.

            And that meant that this bitter, touchy, battered person was the new and permanent Yuri. And Victor was going to have to get used to that, somehow. He was going to have to get used to missing a person who was right in front of his face. Or maybe it was just a side of Yuri that Victor just hadn’t been introduced to yet. If it was just another side to Yuri, that meant Yuri was still there. He was in there somewhere, locked up inside, and could come back.

            There was therapy. There was medication. There was “time heals all wounds.” There were options that could bring Yuri back. But when Victor asked about these options, the doctors just smiled with that same pitying expression. They said they would “do their best,” they would “try everything,” they would “do everything they could.” And Victor knew enough about the phrase “we did everything we could” to know that it wasn’t a hopeful thing.

 

~

 

            “Yuri, what’s going on?” Victor asked, desperate for answers. “It’s like you’re a different person. I don’t recognize… you’re so different.”

            Yuri head to reveal angry, watering eyes.

            “Victor, maybe we should get some coffee, or something,” Yurio suggested, his voice tight. The days were dragging on and Yuri was showing no sign of improvement.

            Victor had the strange feeling that he had actually witnessed a death. Like, somewhere, at a time Victor couldn’t place his finger on, he had lost Yuri. The battle was already over. Yuri was dead.

            “It’s like… you aren’t even you, anymore,” Victor continued, feeling distant, like he was hearing someone else saying these things.

            “I don’t know who I am,” Yuri whispered.

            “Victor,” Yurio exclaimed in falsely cheerful voice.  “Come on, let’s get some coffee.” Yurio tugged on Victor’s arm as he gave Yuri a nervous look.

            “Let’s give him some space,” Yurio whispered so only Victor could hardly hear him over the blipping heart monitor. Victor nodded absently, still staring at his student, who had curled up on his side in the middle of the bed. Victor’s rapidly deteriorating ego pointed its finger at himself for the cause of Yuri’s erratic behaviour and weird mood swings.

            Victor allowed himself to be dragged backwards by the elbow out of the room. Once Yurio had closed the door shut tightly behind them, whispering an excuse across the room to an unresponsive Yuri, he whirled to face Victor with a bright red and angry face. Victor took a step back.

            “Oh, don’t give me that look, you know exactly what you did,” Yurio hissed, his whisper-yell striking Victor like a viper.

            “I don’t—”

            “Of course _,_ you don’t know what you did wrong, because you don’t believe you _can_ do wrong,” Yurio muttered.

            “Hold on, wha—”

            “You don’t think before you speak. I mean, what the heck is wrong with you?” Victor felt a spark of hot, addictive indignation at that.

            “I—” he started before cutting himself off when he saw the nurses glaring disapprovingly over the counter where they sat flipping through charts and typing away at computers.

            Cringing at the angry stares, he grabbed Yurio’s shoulder and dragged him down the hall. When they reached the staircase, Victor yanked the door open and tugged Yuri onto the platform. Yurio stormed to the railing and glared over his shoulder like an enraged cat.

            “Don’t look at me like that!” Victor demanded. “And anyways, I could ask the same about you! Who was it that was always teasing Yuri?” Yurio rolled his eyes in response.

            “Who treated everything like a competition and acted like Yuri had no chance in winning?” Victor pressed. Yurio spun around, shoulders tensing as he stared down the stairwell.

            “And who was it that helped him? That supported and coached him?” Victor bit out.

            “Oh, boo-hoo, so I’m an awful friend. I didn’t know about his depression or how much my teasing bothered him! I didn’t know his past with bullies or that I was making him relive that every day! I didn’t know!”  Yurio’s words echoed powerfully in the empty stairwell. Yurio heaved in breaths and his grip on the railing tightened.

            “I thought he was a threat,” Yurio admitted. “I thought he was taking you away from me— and I know!” he exclaimed, interrupting when Victor tried to get in a word. “I know that he isn’t taking my place or whatever, but I thought… look, it was like mom all over again,” he blurted out shakily, leaning his forehead against his arms.

            “It was like mom choosing another boyfriend over me. That’s… yeah,” Yurio dragged a hand down his face, then whirled around to point an accusing finger at Victor. “And make fun of it all you want. I know it’s stupid. I know. But… that’s just how it is.”

            “And I get it, you know?” Yurio continued. “That you guys are something different than you and I are. That no one is taking my place. But sometimes… sometimes seeing you guys close scares me.” Yurio admitted turning back away from Victor.

              “So, you’re happy he’s different.” Victor guessed, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “You’re happy that he doesn’t remember.”

              “Jeezus, no! Seriously, he’s not different. He’s healing, you jerk. Give him some time before you start giving up on him,” Yurio said.

            “What are you—”

            “You’re impossible,” Yurio complained. “Imagine you wake up in a new place, surrounded by people you don’t know and you have to live with everyone being upset that you don’t remember them and you have to deal with missing memories and the fact that you might never remember the rest of your life right. Imagine how hard that must be. He’s just coping,” Yurio huffed, brushing past Victor to leave the stairwell.

            Guilt welled up in Victor’s chest. He really hadn’t thought about this from Yuri’s point of view. Or from Yurio’s. As Yurio walked past him, Victor threw a hand out and grabbed his friend’s arm.

            “I’m sorry,” Victor said seriously. Yurio eyed him for a moment before shaking his head.

            “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” he said, trying to wriggle out of Victor’s grip. The fist around his bicep wasn’t letting up.

            “No, you deserve an apology,” Victor protested. Yurio gave him an exasperated look.

            “Okay. Have at it,” Yurio said. Victor blinked. “The stage is yours.”

            Victor grabbed Yurio’s hand. Yurio glanced down at their joined hands in startled confusion.

            “I’m sorry, little brother. I should’ve noticed your pain,” Victor said solemnly. Yurio’s eyes widened in surprise before softening.

            No problem, брат,” he muttered. “Now let’s go. You still owe me a coffee.”

            “Of course, lead the way.” Victor followed Yurio out of the stairwell, walking just a step behind his shoulder down the bland halls. “You don’t have to be scared,” Victor said needlessly.

            “I know. Yuri’s been fighting for a piece of your heart. I already have one,” Yurio announced proudly, nose in the air rather snottily. Victor grinned, throwing an arm around Yurio’s shoulders and making the younger boy squawk indignantly.

            “Aw, that’s so sweet! Two of my favourite people competing for my heart—”

            “Shut up, I can only be sappy for five minutes without throwing up,” Yurio grumbled, hip-checking his friend. Victor hardly budged, laughing at Yurio’s failed attempt to knock him over.

 

~

 

            The cafeteria was a large, open room with tall windows that let bright sunlight stream in. The air was buzzing with chatter from patients, families and hospital workers, and the clinking of dishes.

            It was easy to spot out Yuri’s family because they were the loudest group and they were at a table that was crowded not only with food and drink, but also random objects that sprinkled across the table. Boxes were stacked on the floor and chairs nearby, and Yuri’s parents were standing up, arguing back and forth across the table while Mari slumped comfortably in a chair, her feet propped up on the table as she sipped from a Styrofoam cup. Upon seeing Victor and Yurio, she waved and dragged two chairs over to the table without sitting up.

              “Welcome!” She shouted over the loudness of the cafeteria and her parents’ yelling.

            “What’s going on?” Victor asked, sliding into the chair closest to Mari. He glanced across the table, taking in the clothes and books and DVDs and pictures that covered every surface. Yurio scooped up Mari’s legs.

            “Christ, Yurio!” Mari exclaimed, choking on a sip of her drink. Yurio sniggered and plopped in the chair, dropping her legs on his lap.

            “Um, Mari, why are your parents fighting?” Victor asked, eyeing Yuri’s parents as they made rather dramatic gestures at each other and yelled over the raucous of the chattery cafeteria.

            “They’re just fighting over what they should bring to Yuri next to try to get him to remember things,” she answered absently, leaning back to watch her parents fight.

            “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” Victor asked her incredulously. Mari shrugged.

            “Slightly. This is the most exciting thing that’s happened all month, besides Yuri waking up.”

            “Your brother was in a coma, how is that not… exciting isn’t the right word, but you know what I mean,” Victor said.

            “Her brother slept for 3 months. How exciting,” Yurio muttered. Victor glared at him.

            “Oh, look. They’re arguing over the baby blanket and the first pair of shoes,” Mari said like she was commenting on a golf tournament.

            “That’s ridiculous, no one remembers their first pair of shoes.” Yurio muttered, stealing a sandwich off the table. “Go with the blanket. Even if he doesn’t remember it, he had it longer than he had his first pair of shoes, so it’ll be at least comforting, if nothing else.”

            “Yurio, did you have a blankie as a child?” Mari asked teasingly.

            “Shut up, all babies have blankets. I was a baby; therefore, I had a blanket.”

            “Why don’t they just show him both?” Victor asked suddenly, thinking it was the obvious solution. Mari gasped loudly, her free hand slamming to her chest. Yurio raised an eyebrow at her.

            “Victor, I am offended. How dare you suggest that neither the blanket, nor the shoes are the best option. How dare you suggest that I am not right in the decision that the blanket— the _holy_ _blanket_ — is not the best decision!” Yurio snickered at Mari’s theatrics, offering a dainty clap for her efforts.

            “Okay, okay, you’ve made your point.” Victor rolled his eyes, swatting at her arm.

            “Here’s an idea—” Yurio spoke up.

            “Oh, no,” Victor griped with false dread.

            “Here it comes,” Mari groaned, playing along.

            “Stuff it., Yurio muttered. “Mari, you’re his older sister, right?”

            “As far as I know.”

            “Then you know what matters to him, right? Or what mattered to him, anyways.”

            “Actually, I do,” she said, standing up. “I even brought it, on the off-chance that my parents would turn away long enough for me to sneak it into Yuri’s room.”

            She reached over the arm of her chair and poked at a few boxes, pushing some here or there. Then she stuck her hand in a particularly ratty looking box and rummaged through it, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she focused on searching.

            “Ah, here it is,” she said, holding the object in the air above her head. It was a CD.

            “So, what, we just play this for him, and he might remember something?” Victor asked, voice painfully hopeful.

            Mari shrugged and passed the CD to him.

            “Can’t hurt to try.”

            “What’s on it?” Yurio asked curiously, leaning over Victor’s shoulder to see the clear case and the plain CD. Mari looked Victor right in the eyes with a knowing smile.

            “You.” Victor blinked.

            “Sorry?”

            “All you crazy skater kids, actually. The songs you guys skated to, some of the interviews you and your friends have done. Those stupid video diaries you made when you were younger. Pictures of you and your other skating buddies, recordings of you guys skating.... Yeah, he has all of it on this,” Mari said, pointing to the CD.

            “Is it going to work?” Yurio asked, sounding hopeful.

            “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

 

~

 

            “Yuri, come on—”

            “Yeah, just listen, we don’t expect anything—”

            “But you _do,_ ” Yuri protested, sounding agitated.

            He was sitting up, leaning against several pillows and vehemently denying any knowledge of the CD or what was on it. He was also refusing to watch the CD. When Mari tried to put it into the computer that she set on the side table beside Yuri’s bed, Yuri grabbed the device and hugged it to his chest.

            “Yuri, come on. It’s just some music, and videos,” Victor promised.

            “Yuri, just watch the thing, okay? Don’t try to remember things or anything like that, don’t think that we’re expecting you to remember things—” Mari tried to explain before Victor interrupted.

            “But you _are_ expecting him to remember things.”

            “Exactly what I’m saying!” Yuri agreed. “You say you’re not trying to get me to remember, but why else would you bring me a CD of memories? You want me to remember. And you’ll just be disappointed when I don’t.”

            “Yuri just give me the computer,” Mari said.

            “No.”

            “But Yuri, don’t you like music?” Mari asked. Yuri stared at his sister blankly.

            “I don’t remember.”

            Mari threw her hands in the air, “I’m done. Yurio, you try.”

            “Wait— how do you not know if you like music or not? They said you remember everything up until the last few years— you’re lying so they’ll leave you alone, aren’t you?” Victor asked. Yuri nodded.

            “Victor—”

            “— shut up.”

            “Yurio!”

            “I’m _sorry_!”

            “Oh, my God, I’ll watch it if you all shut up,” Yuri said firmly.

            “Sure thing, little brother,” Mari accepted the deal and reached for the player.

            “I want him to do it,” Yuri was pointing at Victor again. Victor grinned, somehow feeling privileged, as if he had done something right that gain Yuri’s trust.

            “Sure thing. And just so you know, I want this even less than you do,” Victor admitted.

            Yuri cocked his head in confusion, unintentionally killing Victor’s already racing heart. Jeezus. Cuteness overload.

            Victor stepped up to Yuri’s bed, accepting the computer. He set it on the bedside table and popped the CD in before settling the computer on Yuri’s lap. Everyone crowded around Yuri to peek at the screen as Victor pressed play.

            The first thing on the CD was a video of Victor. He was young, his long hair could attest to that. He wore a dark glittery costume and was skating in dim lighting to what sounded like a ballad.

            Victor understood why this video would be important to Yuri. It was the routine that Yuri had performed for his friend Yuuko. The performance that got videoed and posted on nearly every social media website. That video was thrown across the world from screen to screen and froze view and like counters.

            Victor glanced away from the screen to gauge Yuri’s expression. He seemed confused but mesmerized. A grin slowly spread across his pale face.

            “That’s you,” Yuri whispered. His arms were hugged almost defensively around his torso, but the way he leaned towards the computer inferred that he was very interested in the video.

            “Yeah, do you know why this might’ve been important to you?” Victor asked. Yuri bit his lip and stared at the screen as if hoping the answers would spring forth from the video itself.

            “I did it. The routine.”

            “You did. Do you know why?” Victor asked, warmth and hope blooming in his chest.

            “No. But I was happy I did it,” Yuri offered timidly. Victor’s broad grin reassured Yuri that he did something right. “But why…” Yuri trailed off.

            “Why what?” Mari asked, reaching out to flatten Yuri’s pillow-mussed hair. Yuri leaned into the touch, a small smile dancing on his lips.

            “Why was it important that you did it?” Yuri asked, shaking his head. “Why were you important to me?” he corrected. Victor frowned, thinking hard.

            “I… I’m not sure.” Victor answered softly. “You looked up to me when you were a kid. You wanted to skate like me, I guess. To skate _with_ me.” Victor frowned, thinking hard. “Do you remember Yuuko?” He asked uncertainly. Yuri nodded with a smile, happy to be able to answer something else.

            “She’s my best friend. You know her?” He asked.

            “Very well, I think. You and she were a little club of sorts when you were kids. You skated all the time together and you watched me skate on TV, too.”

            “You skate on TV?” Yuri asked incredulously. Victor nodded and chuckled. It was refreshing to have Yuri back to the stage where he was amazed by everything Victor did. That being said, Victor would trade that feeling any day, if it meant Yuri’s memories would come back.

            “Wow…. I wish I could. Do you still skate on TV?” Yuri asked hopefully.

            “No, I stopped.” Victor admitted, not the least bit regretful. He traded his skating career for someone else’s. For someone else who deserved every gold medal and every spotlight.

            “Why? Did you not like it anymore?” Yuri looked like someone cancelled Christmas.

            “I never stopped liking it, it’s just that there was something I wanted to do even more. Something that was more important than skating on TV. I wanted to coach somebody special.” Victor said.

            “Who was the special person?”

            “You,” Victor admitted.

            “Me?” Yuri asked, looking bewildered.

            Victor nodded as Yuri stared down at his hands. His face was scrunched with confusion. He was obviously trying his hardest to remember Victor.

            “I’m sorry,” he whispered tearfully.

            “Sorry? About what?” Victor asked.

            “Can’t remember you,” Yuri said defeatedly.  “You were there for me. And now I can’t remember any of it. I’m sorry.”

            Victor blinked. In less than an hour, Yuri had gone from being wary around Victor, to hating Victor, to accepting Victor, to now apologizing to Victor.

            “It’s not your fault.” Victor told him. “None of this is your fault. Not the coma, not the amnesia, not anything. You didn’t ask for this, you didn’t try to make this happen, right?”

            “Well, yeah.”

            “Then there’s no way this could be your fault. You could never have seen this coming. I’m sure if you knew it was coming, you’d stop it.”

            “I don’t know,” Yuri answered honestly.

            Victor leaned away from Yuri. Thinking Victor was mad or trying to get away from him, Yuri started speaking quickly, attempting to explain.

            “I just… I don’t know what I would’ve done. I don’t remember what life was like recently. What if there was something awful going on and I wanted to forget it? What if I knew this would happen and I let it happen so I could forget?” Yuri asked.

            “Are you saying…” Victor started in a hushed voice.

            “What if I wanted to forget? What if—” Yuri swallowed with difficulty. “What if I wanted to die? Would it still not be my fault?” Yuri’s voice was so soft and sounded so innocent and young.

            Victor took in a shuddery breath as Mari turned away so her back was facing Yuri. Yurio took long deep breaths and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck as he scanned the room.

            What do you say to that sort of thing? What do you say to someone who can’t remember their own life but suggests that they might have tried to commit suicide, or at least hurt himself enough to forget? Victor, for one, had no idea.

            “Guys, I don’t remember people. I don’t remember songs, or routines, or anything. It’s like I’m still a kid, skating with Yuuko and watching you on TV. I remember that now. I remember seeing you on TV.”

            “You remember? You remember seeing me?” Victor asked, anticipation rising.

            “Yeah, a bit after you said it. It‘s like the memory just popped in my head,” Yuri shrugged, looking just as confused and excited as Victor.

            “Well, that’s good, isn’t it? You’re remembering— that’s good. Maybe we just have to keep telling you things and showing you pieces of your past, and you’ll eventually remember!” Victor exclaimed. Yuri grinned and nodded.

            “If that’s true, then we should go back to the computer, shouldn’t we?” Mari spoke up. Yuri nodded sharply and Victor pressed play for him again. After the dance was a reel of pictures.

 

~

 

            Yuri had been going through videos and pictures on this CD that Mari gave him for a while. Mari and Yurio stayed by his side for support but left for food and sleep every now and then. The only one who never left was Victor. Victor was at his side the whole time, telling him the story behind every image and video to help him remember.

            One picture was a selfie of Yuri and Victor together. Yuri was taking a bite out of a rainbow sprinkled donut while he snuggled into Victor’s side. Victor had an arm around Yuri, who seemed to have no idea his image was being captured by the camera, and Victor’s free hand was taking the picture.

            In the picture, Victor looked so happy. His hair shone healthily in the light, his eyes sparkled with laughter, and the only wrinkles on his face were from smiling. Yuri glanced up at current Victor. There was a big difference. This Victor looked exhausted. There were bags under his dull eyes, his hair was lank, and there were wrinkles on his forehead as if he spent a lot of time concentrating really hard. Or crying.

            Yuri felt a connection to Victor. He also felt a strange detached feeling to himself. The Yuri in the picture looked just like himself. He seemed happy. But Yuri had no idea who this version of himself was. This picture Yuri was obviously close to Victor. Yuri glanced back at the computer just as the second picture rolled by.

            The second picture made Yuri’s face heat up and his chest buzz. It was a close-up image of him and Victor laughing together in the golden light of a setting sun. Victor and Yuri’s foreheads were pressed together, and Yuri’s fingertips were resting on Victor’s face. Their eyes were closed, their grins were wide, and it looked like they were wearing matching blue sweatshirts.

            “Ah, yes. The beach,” Victor grinned.

            “What did we do?” Yuri asked.

            “Nothing much. You almost drowned in the ocean, we bought poopsicles, Makkachin got chased by a crab, our sandcastle was attacked by birds….”

            “Why did we take a picture? Why were we smiling? What were we talking about when we took it? Who took the picture?” Yuri babbled, wanting all the pictures and answers in the world.

            “Well, there was a photographer on the beach you could pay to get a picture of yourself taken. He asked if we wanted a photo,” Victor shook his head and grinned at the memory. “I said “yes,” but you said “no” at the same time. Then I said “no,” and you said “yes” at the same time. We did it a third time before laughing our heads off— he snapped a picture of us right in that moment.” Victor’s grin was radiant, and it captured Yuri’s attention. It sparkled.

            As if feeling eyes on him, Victor glanced down at Yuri, who quickly looked away just as the third picture was rolling by. He willed himself to remember something— anything.

            The third picture included a grumpy looking Yurio crossing his arms as he was pulled into a three-way hug by Victor. Yuri was on the other side of Victor, his arms flailing out as he was dragged backwards into Victor, whose arm tugging Yuri to his chest. Victor was grinning brightly up at the camera as if he was the happiest man in the world.

            Yuri grinned. The affection on picture Victor’s face and the irritation on picture Yurio’s face made Yuri’s heart warm. Through past pictures, it was clear that Yurio and Yuri had a tentative friendship, though Yurio seemed to never admit how much he cared about anyone. Victor, on the other hand, was a bit harder to define. He was obviously close to Yuri, but how close was a bit harder to figure out.

            Sometimes Victor seemed like a mentor. He kept telling Yuri to take his time. Don’t try to remember too hard. To make sure he ate everything the nurses brought him.

            Other times, he seemed like a close friend. He got exasperated when Yuri couldn’t figure something out or remember. He stole extra red Jello from the cafeteria because he knew that Yuri hated the green kind.

            And other times he seemed like a… boyfriend? Sometimes, Yuri would wake up to find Victor sitting next to him on the bed, holding his hand. Sometimes he would wake up and hear Victor talking to him, telling him how beautiful, and strong, and kind, and talented, and loved he was— which would have all been lovely, had Yuri any recollection of who this man was. It was weird to be complimented so earnestly by a stranger, no matter how many reliable sources told you that the stranger is actually your friend. Yuri sighed, looking away when Victor gave him a concerned look.

            Never fall into a coma.

            Amnesia is awful.


	9. On: Walking Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter sucked so I wrote you another one.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri!!! On Ice.  
> Hey, hope you guys are doing okay, if you’re not, hit me up and let’s vent.  
> The lovely HermioneGirl96 requested more alone time between Yuri and Victor so here it is. Of course, it’ll be a bit weird for them and alone time won’t happen too often because, to Yuri, Victor is a stranger.  
> I appreciate you more than tacos.

Ch9— On: Waking Away

 

             “ _This was a bad idea.”_

            “ _It was not, you’re just nervous.”_

            “ _Bad idea. Bad. So bad. So very much bad.”_

            “ _Calm down—”_

            “ _Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down?”_

            “ _It’s going to be fine, just…. Calm down?”_

_Yuri let out a long and frustrated shriek. Sighing, Victor dropped his forehead into his hand. Yuri was sitting on a blue exam table, a piece of paper crinkling underneath him. It was his first check-up since going home. Today would make or break everything. If Yuri had even slightly crossed the vague line of good health into the land of symptoms, he’d have to be readmitted into the hospital._

            _Yuri_ _was only allowed home in the first place because the therapist taught Yuri’s family plus Victor how to assist Yuri with his stretches and exercises. The nurses gave strict instructions about over the counter medication Yuri would need for the pain, possible swelling and other lovely problems that come from pitching yourself off a cliff._

_The only catch was that there had to be monthly check-ups and if, Yuri showed any signs of relapse, withdrawal or anything like it after the first month of staying home, he would be returned to the hospital for the duration of his healing. Which was going to be several more months._

            _T_ _he list of limitations and rules was huge._

            _No standing without the use of a cane or crutches (both of which Yuri was extremely embarrassed of and therefore hardly ever used)._

            _No walking without supervision (except Yuri never asked for help to go to the bathroom)._

            _No running, jumping or going up any stairs (Yuri’s room was on the second floor… faulty planning)._

            _Take the meds prescribed, follow the recommended diet, and the stretching/exercising schedule (that was actually followed extremely strictly. The Katsuki’s plus Victor had no tolerance for med-skipping and lazing, they forced medication down Yuri’s throat and would carry him downstairs for exercises is need be)._

            _No excitement, such as being in highly populated areas like stores or parties, no tactile sports, no physically straining activity, no video games, no fighting—_

            _And the list went on. Both Victor and Yuri found the list to be ridiculous. They couldn’t even play checkers because Yuri always got way to emotionally invested, and Yurio probably wasn’t even supposed to talk if he came to visit because he always got Yuri riled up._

            _“It’s_ _going to be okay. You look fine, you’re moving fine, you feel fine— what could go wrong?”_

              “ _Don’t. Jinx me., Yuri ordered, stabbing his finger at Victor’s face to punctuate his words. Victor raised his hands in surrender, sinking further back into his stiff chair. There was a sharp rap on the door, making both boys jump._

            “ _Come in!” Victor called, blushing as his nerves showed through his cracking voice._

            “ _Good morning, boys. How are we today?” the doctor asked, closing the door softly behind himself._

_Dear Lord. It was the obnoxious blonde doctor who thought he was God himself. Victor mentally rolled his eyes as Yuri answered with a flat voice._

            _“I’m glad you’re feeling well. Now_ _, tell me,” the doctor said, sitting on a chair and looking up at Yuri expectantly. “Is Victor treating you alright? Have you been getting on okay? He’s helping you with your exercises and meal plans?”_

_Victor bristled._

_Yuri, however, grinned with a passive-aggressive sweetness._

            _“_ _He’s just lovely,” Yuri said with a honeyed voice. “Always making sure I’ve eaten enough, and that I have enough blankets, that I feel okay— he’s just so helpful, I’m very thankful for him.” Victor sniggered behind a hand at Yuri’s dreamy tone while the doctor blinked in surprise._

            _“_ _Well, that’s wonderful, if not surprising,” the doctor said disbelievingly. “But there is something of concern…”  he trailed off, face looking honestly sympathetic._

_Yuri tensed, knee beginning to bounce with nervous tension. Victor’s heart slammed in his chest like a racing rabbit chased by blonde fox with a medical degree._

            _“_ _What do you mean ‘concern?’ I feel fine,” Yuri looked uncertainly to Victor like he was searching for confirmation. Victor could only stare straight ahead at the doctor._

            _“_ _Your blood levels are low in iron and oxygen. This is pretty common because people tend to not eat as healthily as they should, they tend to not get the fresh air and exercise they need, but these levels are exceptionally low.” The doctor handed Victor a sheet of paper. Victor took it, working on autopilot._

            _“T_ _his is a, um, a breakdown of your blood glucose levels, blood pressure and other important vitals we looked at. Your blood pressure and glucose levels are pretty low, too. We’re wondering if maybe you aren’t eating as well as you’re letting on,” The doctor said cautiously._

            _“H_ _e eats every day. We follow the instructions for his meals exactly,” Victor said firmly. Yuri reached over and patted his knee, but Victor captured his friend’s hand and squeezed it._

            _“I_ _n any case, our biggest worry is…. Well, we think you may have other injuries. We might have to do a full body examination.”_

            _“Other injuries_ _?” Yuri asked skeptically. The doctor nodded, glancing at Victor, then pointedly looking down at their clasped hands. Victor felt his blood boil._

            _“_ _You think… he hits me?” Yuri whispered, sounding thoroughly offended. He gripped Victor’s hand with a suffocating clench, but Victor still felt like he was shaking hard enough to fall off the Earth._

_The doctor looked suddenly a bit uncomfortable and began to say something, but Yuri interrupted him with surprising fire._

            _“_ _No, listen,” Yuri said in a shaky voice. “I mean, how dare you? Victor has been a godsend. He would never hurt me,” he said, voice strengthening as he spoke._

            _“_ _Okay, okay, I apologize. It was not my intent to accuse anyone of anything or to step on any toes. We’ve seen a lot of cases where an injured person leaves the hospital early because their family thinks they’d heal better at home, but they get worse. Sometimes this it because of abuse, so I have to ask… if it isn’t that someone is hurting you, is it you that is hurting yourself?”_

_Victor froze._

            _“_ _I’m not sure what you mean,” Yuri said hesitantly._

            _“_ _I’m asking if you’re hurting yourself. For example, are you cutting yourself?” The doctor asked in a soft, but serious voice._

_Victor flinched, remembering a similar conversation. Yuri’s hand made its way to Victor’s hair._

_“Would you mind dressing down? I need to log that I have proof that there isn’t any kind of abuse happening here,” the doctor explained._

_Yuri glanced at Victor, as if to ask for guidance. After receiving a supportive nod, Yuri retracted his hand and began shimmying out of his shirt._

            _The doctor simply blinked in surprise, but Victor jumped out his chair. All up and down Yuri’s arms were scratches and slashes, most only a few centimeters long. Some were angry and red, others were purplish, some were white scars. Some of his arm was covered in colourful band-aids. Victor reached out to Yuri’s arms, but stopped when he was a breath away from touching Yuri. He glanced up to Yuri’s face to see tears swimming and about to fall._

            _“_ _I’m s— I’m s-sorry,” Yuri stuttered hysterically, fists rubbing at his eyes. Victor gently grasped Yuri by the wrists, pulling the skater’s fists away from his abused eyes._

            _“_ _No…. no, we should’ve noticed…. I…” Victor didn’t know what to say. “I’m supposed to take care of you and I…”_

            _“_ _This isn’t you guys’ fault. Don’t not blame yourself, you are not my keeper. You are not responsible for everything I do. You didn’t do this,” Yuri said, regret painting his features._

_Victor looked down, biting his lip with frustration. A smothering silence spread for a moment._

            _“_ _I will be forced to recommend Yuri’s immediate readmittance into the hospital. I hope you understand,” the doctor said in an oddly cold voice. He stood up fluidly and stuffed his clipboard under his arm._

            _“_ _What, no! You can’t!” Yuri exclaimed through tears. The doctor smiled gently, patting Yuri on the head as the boy looked up with red eyes._

            _“I can._ _And, in this case, I have to. I’m sorry.”_

_Victor felt that horrible feeling of helplessness and panic rise in his chest. When the doctor went to pat Yuri on the shoulder, Victor smacked the doctor’s hands away._

            _“_ _Don’t touch him!” Victor snarled, mind racing to come up with a way to get Yuri out of this._

            _“_ _Oh, don’t worry. I won’t,” the doctor said cryptically._

_The doctor pulled open the door to the room and stuck his head into the hall. He gestured to someone that Victor couldn’t see, and stepped back in the room. Yuri scooted down the table so he was slightly behind Victor, who’s arm went out automatically to usher Yuri further out of view of the door._

_Three large security officers wielding tasers, and a few nurses pushing a bed on squeaky wheels filed into the room._

            _“_ _Take him to his old room and let’s have him sedated. Be sure to not let any of his family in, we don’t want him getting overexcited,” The doctor said with a sympathetic smile. The nurses and officers nodded mechanically, advancing like trained soldiers._

            _“_ _You can’t force him to be admitted!” Victor said indignantly, backing up so he pressed against the table Yuri still sat on. Yuri wrapped his arms and legs around Victor, holding on like a baby animal._

            _“_ _Victor, I’m sorry to say that you and Yuri’s family are improper care providers. If you withdraw him from hospital care, I’ll have you brought up on kidnapping and negligence charges. And I’m sure you see that I have a very good case,” the doctor said evenly, every bit the professional, even with a cowering patient and a shouting visitor._

            _“_ _What?” Victor asked, feeling very detached. He gripped on of Yuri’s elbows as if that little connection was enough to keep them both safe from the doctor and his evil nurses and huge security officers._

            _“_ _Yuri has a number of health issues caused by his fall, all of which will only be amplified if he continues to suffer in your care. He needs help. You need help.”_

_The officers reached out with large, grabby hands. The tall, skinny guard pulled Victor away from Yuri with surprising strength while the two stockier guards lifted Yuri off the table._

            _Yuri thrashed in their grip and howled like a wild animal, but the guards seemed to be handling him with ease. Victor strained against the thin arms that held him, but every time he moved, the arms held tighter. His feet slipped uselessly across the floor as he was dragged away from Yuri. All he had to do was stand up on his own feet. Then he could fight of the guard. But it was like the floor was oiled or waxed, it was impossible to get traction._

            _One of the nurses started rummaging around in the drawers and cabinets lining the corner of the room behind the doctor. As Victor and Yuri fought unsuccessfully, the nurse pulled something out the drawer. Her back was to Victor, so he couldn’t see what she was doing, even if he craned his neck. He struggled harder, and his guard’s arms came up to hold his head in a stranglehold. The guy smelled like flowers._

_The nurse turned around and in her hand was a long needle that shone in the bright white hospital lights. She was flicking a long, jagged nail against the side of the needle and smiled._

            _“_ _What’s that?” Yuri demanded. The nurse didn’t respond._

            _“_ _I said, what is it?” Yuri repeated, louder. The nurse sighed and pulled down the mask she was wearing. Now that he could see her face, Victor noticed her to be Nurse Rein, one of the kinder, gentler nurses that looked after Yuri._

            _“_ _Sedative,” she said in a strangely monotonous voice as she stepped closer to him._

            _“Nurse Rein, what are you doing?_ _You can’t sedate him— you can’t take him like this!” Victor babbled uselessly. “Yuri, fight— fight them!” The problem was that, in his weakened state, there was no way Yuri was going to fight off two ripped and well-trained officers._

            _“_ _What do you think I’m doing?!” Yuri shouted, obviously realizing the same thing that Victor did._

_His voice raw from screaming, which made Victor’s chest burn. Victor refrained from responding, mostly because he was tirelessly flailing around like an uncooperative toddler. Then the officer began dragging Victor by the underarms out of the room._

_Victor’s heels dragged across the ground, sliding easily no matter how hard he dug his heels into the floor. He kicked, but the guard was unaffected. Like he didn’t feel the pain that Victor’s assault on his shins should be causing._

_As he was pulled down the hall, Victor strained to turn his head and look back at Yuri. He was being wrestled onto the bed that the nurses had brought in. Thick padded straps wrapped around his arms and legs, and there were handcuffs latching him further to the bed. Nurse Rein stepped up to Yuri, face expressionless._

            _“_ _Get away from him!” Victor shouted pointlessly. “Don’t touch him!” Nurse Rein looked up at Victor and sunk the needle into Yuri’s arm._

            _Victor felt like he was trapped in a_ _horror movie based in an asylum. Yuri would sometimes convince Victor to watch those, even though he’d always get himself so terrified that he had to be held, and sometimes even needed to sleep next to someone to get through the nightmares._

            _“_ _You’re all crazy!” Victor seethed, rage ripping through his body._

_He tore his arms out of the officer’s grip with sudden strength, jabbing his elbow into the taller man’s face. Pain zapped down his arm and the officer grunted in pain, stumbling backwards. Victor took off, forcing his body to move faster and faster as he raced into the room that Yuri was still held in._

            _That’s when e_ _verything began to move in slow motion. Victor felt hyperaware of everything. His hair fluttered around his face and dropped into his eyes. His feet pounded against the floor. His arms pumped at his sides. The officers that had manhandled Yuri raised their tasers. They shouted with deep, authoritative voices. The guards began charging at him, but Victor somehow managed to duck under their arms and avoid their tasers. He made it to Yuri’s bed and stretched out a hand to Yuri, who was obviously feeling the effects of the sedative. The boy raised an arm weakly and their fingers almost met before Victor was yanked back._

_The pull was so forceful and jarring that his teeth rattled, and the shoulder be tugged cracked. The world tilted and he slammed against something hard. He glanced up to see Yuri’s two officers as they dragged Victor away from the door. The nurses began pushing Yuri’s bed down the long hall and away from Victor, who still stretched his hand out._

            _“_ _Yuri!” he cried, on the verge of tears._

_He heard his own name in Yuri’s voice. At the end of the hall, Victor could see Yuri kicking his legs in their shackles and trying to sit up. Victor continued to reach out and grasp at the air like he could bring his friend back through sheer will. The bed continued to roll down the hall until Victor couldn’t even hear its squeaky wheels._

            _Victor sobbed Yuri’s name like a scared child— which he certainly felt like._

            “ _Bring him back— bring him back,” Victor growled at the guards who wrestled him onto his feet._

            “ _Vict…. ease!” one of the guards said._

            “ _Bring him back— bring him back—” Victor repeated._

            “ _Victor…. here…” the other guard_

            “ _Bring him back— bring him ba—” Victor continued until he was interrupted._

            “Wake _up!”_

            Victor’s eyes snapped open and he surged upward like he was rising from the dead. He shivered head to toe, adrenaline and fear coursing through his veins. His heart raced frantically and he clawed at anything nearby, desperate to latch onto something to ground himself with.

            “Victor—”

            He couldn’t breathe, his chest was tight and aching. He felt cold, like he had been dunked in an ice bath.

            “Woah, calm down— I’m here, I’m right here!”

            The moonlight streamed in through the window, lighting the otherwise pitch-black room. The darkness and the moonlight were menacingly calm, seeming to mock the terror and loss Victor felt tearing through him.

            “Victor, I’m here! I’m— please stop yelling, the nurses said if you cause any disturbances, you won’t be able to stay with me anymore and it seems like you always wanna stay here, so _shut up_!”

            Shadows clawed across the floor, reaching out to snag Victor down or maybe crawl up him. He frantically pulled his legs up onto whatever he was sitting on.

            “Sh! Victor, please! I’m here, you don’t have to beg anyone to bring me back!”

            Victor felt awareness slowly dawn on him like a microwave warming up something frozen.

            “Victor, please. I’ve got you!”

            He heard a frantic, whispered shouting.  

            He felt his own lips moving, his throat buzzing as if vibrating— Victor suddenly realized he was babbling and sobbing at the same time.

            Victor looked up, trying to recognize his surroundings.

            Colors, fabrics, pictures— anything he could use to figure out where the hell he was.

            He was sitting on the hard, blue chair by a hospital bed. The chair was close enough to the bed that his hands were gripping the scratchy blanket. There was something shaking the bed. And something was shaking him, too. Victor looked up.

            A boy with dark, messy hair sat upright on the bed in top almost as pale as himself. The moon shone in the boy’s dark, teary eyes, lighting them up like a chandelier. Victor frowned. Something so pretty shouldn’t cry. Something that pretty should be protected.

            Wait.

            Victor knows that person.

            Wait.

            Victor’s slow thoughts suddenly caught up at once like a train crash.

            It was Yuri. Shaking the bed and shaking Victor and pretty much shaking the world by the shoulders with an iron grip, jolting the bed and making the aged plastic creak.

            Yuri’s eyes were welling with tears and his voice warbled as he demanded that Victor wake up, as he told Victor he was there, as he told Victor to calm down.

            “Y-Yu…” Victor attempted, only to find his mouth dry, voice painfully raspy.

            “Yes, yes, it’s me!” Yuri’s face could make the sun jealous. Victor took a shuddery breath, trying to focus. He squeezed his eyes shut as he willed himself to calm down.

            “Gosh, you’re shaking like a leaf— you had a pretty bad nightmare. Here, get on the bed,” Yuri said, voice still sleep-slurred. He scooted over awkwardly and patted the edge of the bed. Victor blinked up at him.

            “What.”

            Yuri blushed, “Come on, we’re supposed to be best friends, right? This is what best friends do… right?”

            “Uh, not really. But okay,” Victor whispered, suddenly understanding how much he needed this. Needed to be close to someone he thought he lost a million times over.

            It felt like Yuri had just been torn away again. Reality poked at him, telling him that he never lost Yuri. Reality told him Yuri was just a bit confused with his memories, but no one took him. Physically. And Yuri seemed relatively okay with Victor now. Since he was sharing a bed with him now.

            Victor stood up shakily, feeling a bit disconnected. His chest warmed when Yuri reached out to hold his hand, and he secretly reveled in the warmth captured between their palms. He could never forget those hands.

            _The hands he held when he felt himself was falling apart_.

            He took a shuddery breath and eased onto the bed like it was full of grenades.

            _When emotions boiled over and he lost control._

            He laid down stiffly, staying as close to the edge as he could.

            _The hands that held his pieces together when he feared he would shatter, his protective barrier made only of ceramic and china._

            As far away from Yuri as the mattress allowed.

            _The hands he had restrained when they attempted to hurt their owner._

            Far away.

            _When those hands shook and trembled with anything akin to fear, or loss, or desperation, when he would grab them close, reassuring with his own presence._

            Far away.

`           “Come over here, you’re gonna fall off,” Yuri said gruffly.

            Victor looked over, surprised at his friend’s tone.

            “I just wanna go to bed, but you falling off isn’t gonna help me, so get over here,” Yuri explained, sounding oddly sure and in control.

            Victor bit his lip and shuffled closer. Yuri’s eyeroll was noticeable, even in the little light that came from the moon. He grasped Victor’s arm and pulled him close, rolling the rest of the distance between them so they were almost chest to chest. Forehead to forehead. Nose to nose. Lip to—

            “Uh, are you sure— I mean, you still don’t remember me and all—” Victor asked jerkily, interrupting his own thoughts. “I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

            “Victor. From what I’ve seen, you’re a great guy,” Yuri said matter-of-factly. “You bring me Jello and books and stuff. You always seem to be here. You’re here for me, and I get that, so… I’m going to try very hard to remember you from now on.”

            Victor felt a grin split his face.

            “Thank you,” he said softly, feeling wetness on his cheeks. “Thank you.”

            Yuri smiled sadly and reached out and Victor practically pounced at the small invitation. He burrowed into his friend’s arms, hiding his face in Yuri’s pale neck, tears still falling. Yuri whispered unintelligibly and steadily, and Victor sighed, giving a soft hum of appreciation for the low voice.

            Yuri’s arms were tight, grounding Victor to the present. He felt those hands gently patting his back and leaving him feeling like melting butter. Victor took a deep breath, basking in the comforting smell and touch of Yuri. Though the hospital smells of sanitizer and medication permeated the air, the grass and sun smell from Yuri still hung in the air.

            “Thank you,” Victor whispered.

            He heard a shuddery breath and glanced up to see Yuri’s eyes still tearing up.

            “What? What’s wrong?” Victor asked gently, swiping a rolling tear from Yuri’s cheek.

            Yuri shook his head, leaning into Victor’s hand. Something warm burst in Victor’s chest. He had been wishing for this for so long. For Yuri to trust him like this.

            “You just… you talked. While you dreamt. You…,” Yuri trailed off cautiously. “Anyways, I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Yuri obviously wanted to move on, so Victor followed his lead and changed the subject.

            “So, why are you suddenly… okay with this? Comfortable with this. I don’t want you to feel like you’re expected to...”

            “You…. talked while you dreamt,” Yuri repeated.

            “Did I… what did I say?” Victor asked, feeling his cheeks burning up. Dear Lord, he hoped he didn’t say anything inappropriate.

            “You said it was gonna be okay. You were telling someone to leave me alone— to not touch me. You told me to fight. And you believed that I could. You sounded like you believed in me,” Yuri smiled like Victor had given him a gift. “But you… how you said my name… you just…” Yuri bit his lip in frustration, sitting up.

            Victor followed him up and leaned his head around, trying to watch his friend’s eyes. Yuri was made it difficult, constantly ducking or looking away. He started playing with his hands on his lap before he continued.

            “You sounded so lost. Hurt. There was so much… I don’t know, there was so _much_ in your voice. So much—” Yuri broke off, flashing his eyes up to Victor for a millisecond before looking back down.

            “You said it with love. Like, I was the most important thing. I trust that.”

            Victor’s urge to confirm these feelings, but also let Yuri talk and get this off his chest warred with each other.

            “And I feel _awful_.”

            Victor blinked.

            “I _am_ _awful_.”

            Victor cocked his head.

            “I’m the worst human being who ever disgraced the Earth. I don’t deserve your lo-care… I don’t deserve anything. I—”

            “Okay, I’m going to stop you right there,” Victor announced, holding a palm up.

            Yuri looked surprised, as if he had forgotten Victor was there.

            “How in the world are you awful? How are you disgracing the Earth? How are you anything but amazing?” Way to make that awkward. Victor wanted to bash his head against a wall.

            “Ah— I mean… I…” Victor immediately flew into recovery mode and to make the corny line go away, but he couldn’t formulate the words.

            Yuri just blushed lightly and laughed softly while Victor covered his face with his hands and groaned.

            “God, kill me,” Victor muttered. He felt something warm on his arm and looked over to see a grinning Yuri patting his arm.

              “I think it’s sweet,” he grinned, fingers clutching lightly at Victor’s sweater sleeve.

            Yuri seemed to be in awe at the softness of Victor’s sweater, which he rubbed between his fingers. He leaned closer and lay his head tentatively on Victor’s arm, their eyes still meeting. Yuri softly nuzzled his face into Victor’s sweater. Victor heard him take a deep breath, probably grateful for something that smelled real, not like chemicals of the hospital. The hospital was probably also the reason Yuri was taken with Victor’s sweater. There wasn’t a soft blanket in sight

            Even though there was a perfectly logical reason to why Yuri was laying his head on him (warm, good smelling, soft sweater was much easier to sleep on than cold, hard. Scratchy blankets and pillows), Victor still felt rattled.

            He stared down at the top of Yuri’s head with wide eyes and a slow grin. Testing all gods and fates alive, he hesitantly leant his head down and dropped his nose into Yuri’s hair. He wrinkled his nose at the surface smell of disinfectant but, under that, there was the homey smell of grass and sunshine that made Victor think of love and skating and pork cutlet bowls and screaming triplets and lazy sisters and holding hands and sunsets and irritable blondes and everything that was right with the world.

            Victor felt like a sap.

            It could be worse.

            Yuri sighed, his breathing slowing into a steady lullaby.

            It could be worse.

             

~

            “Hey.”

            Victor screwed his face up, keeping his eyes closed. It was so warm and soft and warm and soft— he didn’t want to wake up.

            “Yo, Victor.”

            Now Victor really didn’t want to wake up. Something next to him stirred and groaned. Victor threw out an arm and wrapped around the thing to keep it still. The wriggling and soft complaints ended swiftly, and all was silent again.

            “Victor!” the voice was louder, more demanding.

            Sh!” Victor hissed back. He glanced up wearily to see Yurio standing above him, fists on his hips, staring down at Victor expectantly. The lump on the bed beside Victor wriggled.

            Well dang.

            Yuri was laying right next to him.

            He muttered curses under his breath in his native tongue, surprise catching him like the Grim Reaper. The lump beside him whined and rolled onto its back, head lolling to the side.

            “Victor—”

            “Oh my God, shut up!” Victor whisper shouted, wrapping a free arm around Yuri’s head, trying to block the sounds of loud voices from reaching his sleeping friend. “Jeezus, he got almost no sleep last night, can you shove a sock in it for a second?” Victor complained.

            Yurio rolled his eyes, plopping down in the hard, blue chair beside the bed. Victor returned his attention to Yuri, pulling the thin blankets up to cover his healing friend. He stopped for a moment, remembering Yuri’s fascination with his sweater. He  pulled off the white sweater to reveal a thin grey undershirt and stuffed the knitted top into Yuri’s arms. Yuri immediately clutched the sweater to his chest and nuzzled his face in it, smiling sweetly in his sleep.

            “What?” he asked when he turned to face Yurio, who gave him a pained expression. “What? Are you okay? Is something wrong?” he asked urgently, eyes sweeping over Yurio from head to foot to check for injuries, exhaustion, malnutrition— anything his frantic mind could come up with that was bad.

            “No, nothing like that,” Yurio said as he rose to stand directly in front of Victor.

            “God, don’t scare me like that, Kid,” he complained. “So, what is it?”

            “His parents are fighting again,” Yurio answered moodily, sinking onto the bed by the sleeping Yuri’s feet. Yurio lay back, head dangling off the edge of the bed. His hair was so long, the golden strands brushed the floor when he tilted his head all the way back.

            “What about?” Victor asked softly, holding back a tired sigh. Now that he was paying attention, he realized he could hear the rising voices of a stressed couple.

            “Guess.”

            “Therapy.”

            “Winner, winner.”

            Victor sighed again, sitting up. He began struggling into a bulky, light sweatshirt he found hanging over the end of Yuri’s bed.

            “I’m on it,” he muttered. “But, I really don’t want to deal with this.”

            “Yeah, but you and I both know that there’s no one else who can interfere without losing their life, or their friendship, or whatever it is we’re salvaging these days.”

            Victor knew Yurio was right. The Katsuki’s trusted Victor, so they were more willing to listen to him instead of argue than they were to listen to anyone else. That made Victor the peacekeeper, which was the most frustrating and stressful jobs Victor had ever had.

            Feeling a little sorry for himself, Victor shuffled over to the door in bare feet. His long, blue lounge pants reached the floor, his heels stepping on the hem. When he reached the door he reached a sluggish arm out and turned the handle, pushing the door open without stepping out into the hallway.

            He threw his head to back, casting a pout at Yurio who had his arms crossed and his foot tapping impatiently on the tiled floor. Yurio put one hand on his hip and pointed with a punching force at the door. Victor straightened up, eyes closing as he released another sigh, and stepped into the hallway, closing the door silently behind him.

            Just down the hall, Victor saw Yuri’s parents angrily arguing at each other. Mrs. Katsuki was throwing her arms around, whisper shouting rapidly at Mr. Katsuki, whose normally calm face was becoming dangerously red. Victor jogged down the hall, feeling his energy draining with every step. Upon seeing Victor approach, Mr. Katsuki tapped his wife on the shoulder and pointed down the hall at Victor, obviously trying to hide the fact that they were fighting.

            “Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki,” Victor said with a brilliant smile. “How are you?”

            “We’re just fine, thank you. And how are you, have you eaten yet?” Mrs. Katsuki asked with a strained smile that didn’t meet her eyes.

            “Look, I don’t want to overstep, but we can hear you guys fighting in Yuri’s room again. It stresses Yuri out. He’s still sleeping, and he needs to get as much rest as he can, so please stop. And if you can’t decide which one of you will go to therapy with Yuri, why not just choose Mari?” Victor said with as much politeness as his tired, stressed mind could conjure.

            “Victor, Mari doesn’t want to go to his therapy, we asked her already.”

            “Why wouldn’t she? She’s so supportive of him and—”

            “Said something about… not wanting to be associated with the frustration and loss associated with therapy that may bleed into Yuri’s thoughts and feelings about her,” Mr. Katsuki uncertainly. “Something like that.”

              “I think she’d just rather stay home, then of go to a therapy session early in the morning,” Mrs. Katsuki added, pinching the bridge of her nose, breathing deeply.

            “Okay, why not rocker-paper-scissors for it?” Victor asked. The Katsuki’s looked at Victor blankly before Mr. Katsuki broke into a grin.

              “Ah, the wisdom of the youth,” he said with a tired sort of grin. Victor grinned tentatively, but Mrs. Katsuki looked a little less than pleased.

            “Victor, please. This really is a family matter. I appreciate that you’ve been there for Yuri and I don’t mean to be rude, or exclude you, but this is private,” She said kindly, but firmly. Victor stepped back, hands up in surrender, despite the twinge his heart felt.

            “It’s just…. I’m sorry, Victor, but I would also like to see a bit less of you around my son.” Mrs. Katsuki added.

            Victor stopped breathing.

            “I know you’re close, but him being friends with you… he was fine until you came into his life. Things got notably better after you, I’ll admit that. But if it ends like this… if he’s permanently hurt because of this, after you entered his life… this isn’t like Yuri. He doesn’t jump off cliffs and cut his own skin and— and the only change that’s happened recently is…” Mrs. Katsuki trailed off, looking pointedly at Victor

            Victor’s heart stopped beating.

            “I’m sorry, but for his health you have to stay away. If you truly care for him, then… then do this. Do this for Yuri,” Mrs. Katsuki’s eyes begged him to do as she said without a fuss, her tone was imploring.

            Victor couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this to this family. Not this family. His family. He couldn’t hurt them. Not anymore. He couldn’t hurt Yuri. If he hadn’t been here, Yuri wouldn’t be in this mess. He wouldn’t be in a hospital bed with no memories of the last few years.

            She was right. But mothers always are.

            Victor squared his shoulders and plastered the fakest grin imaginable across his stone face.

            “I understand, I just— I love you guys. Your whole family. I don’t want you to be in pain if there’s something I can do to help you. That’s all,” he said his fake grin slipping into a sad, tight-lipped smile. “Good-bye, Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki. It was lovely to get to know you.” He gave a slight bow, and twirled around with false eccentricity.

            He speed-walked down the hall, hands clenched at his sides as he stalked into Yuri’s room and swiped his bag off the floor. He sped through the room grabbing his things: a jacket from the end of the bed, a few books on the window seat, a few spare shirts and pants in the drawers.

            “Where’s my phone charger?” he asked evenly, not looking up from his search.

            He didn’t receive an answer, so he started looking for it. He peeked under the bed and lurched forwards, shimmying on his stomach across the floor like a snake and snatched up the familiar white chord. He stuffed it in a pocket of his bag and dropped the large duffle unceremoniously on the floor, cringing at the thud it made.

            Both conscious inhabitants of the room snapped their heads around, waiting for Yuri to wake up at the sound of the heavy bag falling. The soft snores didn’t even hitch, and the body on the bed rolled over, settling into a deeper sleep.

            “Um, where are you going?” Yurio asked as Victor began tugging off his lounge pants and struggled into a pair of jeans he found on the floor.

            “Are these mine?” he asked as if he hadn’t heard Yurio at all. “They seem looser.”

            “That’s because you don’t eat anymore. Now tell me where you’re going.”

            “Home,” Victor muttered, not looking at Yurio, fumbling with the button.

            “Russia!?” Yurio demanded, springing up from his spot on the edge of the bed where Yuri still slept.

            “No, I didn’t mean ‘home, home’ I meant ‘home, as in the place I live when I’m here,’ which is the Katsukis’ hot springs.” Yurio looked marginally relieved, but still on edge.

            “Is everything okay? He asked. Loaded question. _Wrong_ , loaded question. Victor’s reaction proved this.

            “I don’t know, Yurio, is anything okay?” he demanded snappishly. Yurio cringed at his biting tone..

            “You tell me, Yurio. Yuri was pissed at me before all this went down and I’m probably the reason he jumped off that cliff to kill himself. And now he doesn’t remember me, so I can tell him anything I want and he’ll probably believe me, so I can totally ignore the fact that I betrayed him and destroyed our friendship and ruined every bit of trust he had in me,” he explained as he shoved his earbuds into his bag.

            “And I can pretend that we’re best friends, and that we always have been so he’ll just sink into the friendship thing and not even second guess it because, why would he? His parents would tell him that we’re friends because it would hurt him less, Mari would say it because she really believes it, and you would say it because you’re my brother, but he won’t know the truth and that won’t be fair,” Victor said, tugging on the zipper of his bag.

            “Also, his parents kicked me out of all this because it’s exclusively family-in-blood only, which excludes me and that _hurts_ , man, it hurts like… I mean, everyone I’ve ever freaking loved—” Victor cut himself off, breath coming out in gasps and wheezes.

            “I’m sorry— sorry, I’m just… I’m just going to— yeah. I’ll be at the hot springs if…”

            “If?” Yurio asked dazedly, still processing his friend’s venting.

            “I don’t know. But, I’ll be there.” Victor threw his bag over his shoulder and made to walk past Yurio but was stopped when Yurio reached out a hand to press against his chest, effectively keeping him from running away.

              “Victor,” Yurio said softly. “This isn’t your fault. If Yuri could remember you and everything you’ve done for him, he’d tell you the same thing. Crap happens to everyone. It’s all chance. You were dealt a bad hand, but you can play again.” Yurio tried to bring up Victor’s spirits. He wasn’t good with words. Or emotions. Or people. He was basically awful at human interaction at all levels, but he tried. Victor still left.

            Not before saying “I bet my whole lot on that bad hand of cards.”

 

~

 

            After the door was gently shut with a soft click, the bedsheets rustled as Yuri sat up.

            “What happened?” he asked uncertainly as Yurio sank back onto the mattress, hunched over his curled-up knees.

            “He’s just upset, Kid. Don’t worry about it.”

            “You know I’m older than you right, Kid?”

            “You’re a kid. Don’t even try to deny it. I’m way more mature than you,” he scoffed as Yuri grinned, shaking his head.

            “It’s just…” Yurio trailed off. He felt Yuri scoot closer[,](http://en.bab.la/dictionary/russian-english/%D1%81%D1%82%D0%B5%D1%80%D0%B2%D0%B0) either to hear better or to comfort Yurio.

            “What’s wrong?” he asked softly, putting a warm hand on Yurio’s shoulder.

            “He looked like he did when I first met him five years ago,” Yurio said. “He looked lost.”

 

~

            Victor stepped out of the hospital for the first time in weeks. Dark clouds gathered ominously in the sky, blocking out the cheery sun. Rain dropped in thick, drops that plastered Victor’s light hair against his head. He threw a hand in the air, hailing down an old looking cab. He slid into a humid, smelly vehicle and gave the driver directions for a nearby hotel. 


	10. Blue Like Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri!!! On Ice  
> This chapter might seem a little all over the place. Yikes and apologies. Also, we’re just trying to get through the hospital junk, right now. Hang in there, my loves.  
> As always, requests, reviews (good or bad!) and suggestions are welcome!

 Ch10— Blue Like Roses

            Yuri was weirdly attached to Victor’s visits, after he stopped unintentionally making Yuri feel guilty about the whole amnesia thing. Victor had a pretty bubbly spirit, he was good with his parents and sister, he seemed to really care about Yuri— he was just a good guy. But Yuri didn’t realize just how good of a guy he was until the first day he didn’t show up at the hospital to visit since Yuri woke up. During his absence, Mari took it upon herself to detail to Yuri just how good Victor was.

            She talked about how much Victor dealt with when he was still regularly visiting Yuri in the hospital. First, he spent months on end by his unconscious friend’s side, believing against all odds that Yuri would wake up. Then it was thrown back in his face when Yuri finally woke up but couldn’t remember him. He dealt with Yuri's aggressively passive aggressive mother who micromanaged harder than a homeschool teacher. He dealt with condescending doctors who thought they were God's gift. He dealt with Yuri being too depressed to eat, too anxious to sleep, too tired for PT. He stayed no matter what. Through the boredom and the scratchy sheets and the obnoxious monitors and the sobbing families and the groaning patients, he stayed.

            And it made Yuri feel like crap. Everything made Yuri feel like crap. Yuri  _was_  crap.

            For putting everyone through so much. He ripped away their hope, and giving it back, only to steal it away again. He felt so guilty. And oddly disconnected.

             He watched the feet of nurses and patients pass by his room with disinterest. He listened to the ticking clock on his wall without noting the time. He only pretended to pay attention to what anyone said when they talked to him. He listened to the beeping of his monitors and the pelting rain drops, but none of it meant anything. They were just images and sounds. Not lives and moments.

            He felt like he was lost. He was a little cyclone of emotion and it was exhausting and confusing and annoying. He was angry that he couldn't remember anything. He was guilty that he was hurting everyone. He was frustrated with the constant steps forward and steps back in PT. And he was sad, and he had nothing to blame it on.

            He knew he should be grateful because his friends and family stayed with him through all that, but their love just hurt. He should be grateful he didn't die in the accident that no one would talk about, but sometimes he wasn’t His sister said she didn’t know what happened, his mother said it was a jogging accident, his friends said he had an accident while he was sick— sick with what, nobody would say. He knew he should be grateful he woke up. But sometimes he wasn’t.

            And it wasn't like he had the right to feel this way. When he fell into that coma, he left people behind. People hurt for him. He had to come back, there was no other option. But sometimes he wished he hadn't. And that was almost as painful as knowing Victor left.

 

...

 

            There were more white ceiling tiles in Victor's hotel room than there were in Yuri's hospital room. Also, the air smelled like _Lavender Breeze_ , some fancy spray perfume that housekeeping had doused every inch of the room with. It burned Victor's nose and made his eyes water.

            The room itself was nice. Well-polished mahogany. Sharp looking upholstery. Elegant crown molding. High ceilings with large light fixtures that made the room look warm. A balcony with white, whispery curtains overlooking a garden. It was much nicer than the hospital room.

            But the room was much too big for one person. It was felt empty, and it even echoed a bit. It was quiet. But the biggest problem with it was that there were flowers  _everywhere_.

            Tall blue and purple orchids in a huge white pot greeted him by the door. On the coffee table between a long couch and a flat-screen TV was a small centerpiece of forget-me-nots whose colour faded from sky blue petals to a cobalt center. In the bathroom on the back of the toilet and in the window box were ruffly blue carnations and there were navy and white daisies in the kitchen. And blue roses in the bedroom. Blue roses.

_Blue roses_ , he scoffed to himself. Roses are red. Or white. Or pink. Or yellow. But never  _blue_. Or  _black_. That's  _weird_. Weird but still pretty.

            Victor's mind flashed back to a certain dark-haired skater who was also weird but still—.

            Christ.

            All the blue was driving him crazy. The blue skating jackets, the blue hospital chairs, the blue flowers— it was an obnoxious reminder of someone he was trying to avoid.

            And that’s what he was trying to do. Forget. Victor knew that just "staying away” was not going to happen on its own. He was going to have to do one of two things. Either forget Yuri and get over him, or make Yuri hate him. The last option would hurt, but at least he would know that there was no way to go back. If there was even a sliver of possibility for Victor to go back, he knew he’d take that chance. And he couldn’t do that.

            So, he decided to forget. In a room full of blue, which Yuri looked best in. And in a bedroom with roses, symbolizing something that he and Yuri would never have.

            Unless blue roses and red roses meant different things. Victor didn’t actually know the meaning behind the blue ones. Maybe they didn't mean love. Maybe they meant hatred. Or disgust. Or mild dislike. He'd rather they meant that than love. Curiosity swelled until he felt like he had to know. Just to get it out of his mind that blue might mean something bigger than friendship.

            Flopping on the fluffy couch, Victor pulled out his phone and grimaced at his lock screen picture. The bright grin of his friend who was currently laying in a hospital bed was looking up at him. He'd have to change that soon.

            He grimaced at the background image of himself with his chin resting in the hair of his peacefully sleeping student’s head. That would have to change as well. Yuri was  _everywhere_.

            Grumbling moodily, Victor clicked on the first link he came to, after typing his question in the search bar.

            "'Blue roses do not occur in nature'— you don't say." Victor muttered as he read the article he found out loud. “And…blah, blah blah…. 'Mystery'. Okay, that's not so bad. 'Tantalizing’?"

            Victor made a face as he read phrases like 'Complex personality' and 'symbolizes the impossible or unattainable.' He bit his lip and glared at the floor for a second before returning to the article, which began explaining how blue roses are special and, therefore, the receiver of those flowers is special, too.

            "'Sense of appreciation for something that cannot be grasped at full measure'." Victor read aloud, wanting to bang his head against the wall. “This is sickening, let's leave that site."

            Skipping to the second link listed on his screen, Victor was happy to see that it was an actual florist website. They would probably know what they were talking about, which was reassuring. At least it was a trusty source.

            “’Blue roses can symbolize enchantment.’ Okay, that makes sense. ‘They mean I can't have you, but I can't stop thinking about you’." Victor blinked. Then he chucked his phone across the room.

 

...

 

Day 5:

            This was pathetic. Yuri was counting, now. Every day. He counted hours, too (135 and counting). Everything felt weird. Like there was a gap. Something was missing.

            His parents were happy. His mother came more often, almost every day now, and she smiled more. His father snuck him coffee behind the nurses' backs and talked about how he wanted to learn how to skate with Yuri. Mari was still a little upset that Yuri had let his mother kick Victor clear out of the picture, but she didn't seem much different other than that. And Yurio—

            Yurio took everything so hard, these days. It made it easier for Yuri to act alright, because someone had to take care of Yurio.

            When Victor left Yurio sat in Victor's window seat, hugging his knees to his chest and staring out the window. He only talked when he felt like he had to, slept when prompted, moved sluggishly, ate when forced to.

            Every meal, a nurse would bring two meals to Yuri, who would force his aching muscles and bones to sit up, a soft pillow cushioning his sore back from the hard plastic of the bed. He would call Yurio over with a soft voice and watch at he would weakly turn in his seat and stand on shaky legs.

            Yurio would amble awkwardly over to the chair beside Yuri's bed and Yuri would convince him to eat, threatening him with an IV until he picked up his fork. Yurio would slump in the chair, waiting for Yuri to finish so someone could collect their mostly trays, and he’d go back to this window seat while Yuri pretended he wasn't watching and worrying while fake reading the most recent manga, or scrolling through various social media sites.

            And that was the climax of their days. It was depressing. And Yuri was bored to pieces. Family was great, but they were kind of expected to be there. Yuri was grateful, but it didn’t feel like when Victor came.

            Victor was a stranger who had, as the story goes, entered Yuri's life by a stroke of drunk luck at a party for competing skaters. Victor had no responsibility for Yuri. He could walk away, and no one would raise an eyebrow. He was a coach, a famous skater— he had other responsibilities. He could claim to have a job offer in New York, or gigs lined up in Hong Kong. He could leave Yuri's life as quickly as he came— but he didn't. Not once did he. And that meant a lot.

            But Yuri certainly gave him plenty of reason to go. He couldn’t remember him. His family was acting rudely toward him. He depended on him to practice PT with. He got snappy and grumpy with him often. Really, it was a wonder Victor kept coming back. Well. Except he didn’t come back today.

            Yuri must have made a distressed sound, because Yurio was suddenly at his side, leaning his side against Yuri's shoulder. Looking up, he could see Yurio’s grave expression and his silent question. A little freaked out, Yuri reached up to pat Yurio's arm awkwardly.

            "I'm okay, Yurio…" he muttered.

            Yurio's blank face broke for the first time in days when he glared at Yuri knowingly.

            "Okay, so I'm upset. That's to be expected isn't it?"

            Yurio shrugged.

            "You've felt this way too before, right? Kinda…. ditched?"

            Yurio shrugged.

            "And a bit lost, maybe."

            Yurio nodded tightly.

            "It's like, I may not remember him… but he's been there, you know? He's always there. And now he's not.”

            Yurio sighed.

            "When are you going to start talking to me again?" Yuri asked honestly. "I might not remember you, but I miss your voice. And Victor's."

            Yurio looked pained. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again, looking down at his hands, which were twisting together and clenching tightly.

            "Yurio. Please. Help me out, here. I can't do this alone and, let's face it; neither can you," Yuri pointed.

            Yurio glared daggers at Yuri, who sneered back.

            "Didn't take you for a coward, Plisetsky,” Yuri grumbled, crossing his arms irritably.

            He was sick of everything. Victor leaving, his mother taking control, his dad acting like everything was normal, Yurio going radio silent for the better part of most days. It was frustrating and made Yuri wanted to scream.

            Yurio huffed and his face turned a reddish tint.

            "You're worse off than I am, aren't you?" Yuri guessed.

            Yurio bit his lip and rolled his eyes.

            "Yurio, seriously. Talk to me," Yuri tried again. Yuri looked straight into Yurio's eyes. Seeing shattered blue-greens staring back at him, he reached out and grabbed Yurio's arm, pulling his friend closer.

            "Yurio. I can't help unless you tell me what's wrong."

            Yurio looked up through a curtain of pale blonde hair. Yuri brushed the long strands out of the way, holding them to the side by cupping his friend's face, which also kept said friend from looking away. Yurio flushed under the scrutiny and attempted to wiggle from Yuri's grasp, but Yuri was having none of it.

            "Yurio."

            Something in Yuri's tone must have caught Yurio's attention because the boy's eyes widened, and his hands covered Yuri's on his face. Yurio gnawed his lip, but Yuri waited patiently, absently fiddling with the soft hair being held to the side by his fingers.

            "Sorry," Yurio muttered flatly, his voice scratchy.

            "What’s wrong?"

            Yurio's eyes were shining

            "Everything. Noth… nothing is…. Nothing’s okay and I just…"

            "Okay, okay, come here. Sit," Yuri ordered, gently pushing Yurio until he sat on the chair by his bed. Yuri shuffled so he was sitting upright without the use of a pillow and began scooting to swing his legs over the edge of the bed.

            "Don't," Yurio said, his vise like grip holding Yuri by the arm and pushed him back sharply. Yuri fell back against the pillows and blinked up at Yurio in surprise.

            "Lay back. It hurts you to sit,” Yurio said, scooting his chair closer to the bed.

            Yuri grinned softly and reached out a hand. Yurio stared at it with a clueless expression before tentatively reaching out. Yuri grasped his hand, tugging him close so his head rested on the edge of the bed by Yuri’s thigh.

            "What do you mean ‘everything keeps happening’?"

            Yurio didn't answer and just plucked at the scratchy blanket. Yuri grasped Yurio's hand in his own, using his other one to pull at the extra blanket on his bedside table. With one hand, he flourished the blanket and dropped it so it fell mostly over Yurio, who blushed and looked away.

            "Just… You were… hurt — " Yurio sighed heavily. "Then the accident… a coma… now you can't remember me—" Yurio chomped down on his lip hard until Yuri poked his cheek.

            "Stop doing that. You'll split your lip and bleed over my nice clean blankets."

            Yurio rolled his eyes, "Sorry.”

            "You know I'm trying to remember, right?" Yurio nodded. "I get that it still sucks. It's probably even worse for you, now that Victor is..."

            "MIA," Yurio supplied.

            "MIA," Yuri agreed.

            Yurio tentatively lay his head on Yuri's thigh. Yuri stiffened for a second, eyes wide. When Yurio made no move to pull away, Yuri draped an arm over Yurio's shoulders and squeezed. Yurio gave a soft sigh of contentment, his eyes fluttering closed.

            “You tell anyone, and I’ll kill you.”

            Yuri’s body shook with laughter. It continued to shake, even when he stopped.

 

...

 

            Victor's phone was in timeout. It was under the huge four poster bed, right where it had slid when Victor threw it during his temper tantrum earlier, and that was where it was going to stay.

            He really just wanted to talk to someone. Anytime he was bored, his brain just wanted him to talk. To literally anybody. His coach, his friends, the Katsuki family, a bus driver, a waitress— literally anything alive he would talk to. Sometimes he even talked to a wall, despite it not meeting the criteria of being alive. He was just so desperate to _talk_ and be _heard_.

            At first, people would listen. But as he dragged on, even his friends and family would eventually get tired of him. Fans were even worse. It wasn’t that Victor really tried to talk to them, but he would say hello, or something. He never really got a response. He mostly just got the incoherent screams of young people hopped up on caffeine, Adderall or adrenaline all clamoring for the photo or the signature at the same time. They didn't even say hello.

            And, for some reason, the strong-willed, never-failing Victor Nikiforov was hurt. And lonely. He just wanted to talk to somebody, but walls didn't make conversation. Not that anyone listened back, when they talked to walls. All walls are supposed to do is be tall and strong. Their words and emotions didn't matter.

            "I'm a wall," Victor whispered to himself as he lay with his top half hanging off the arm of the couch, silvery tresses sweeping the ground.

            His face crumpled as he hugged a soft, heather grey throw-pillow to his face and groaned loudly into it.

            A cheerful tune ripped through the room.

            "Not now," Victor told the stupid piece of plastic that still lay under the bed, waiting for its owner to come back.

            The jingle continued on light-heartedly.

            "No."

            His phone continued to sing and buzz and light up. Victor lurched upright and stormed into the bedroom. He slid across the hardwood flooring in socked feet, making a point to stomp the last few steps over the bed. He crouched down and jerked the blankets hanging over the side of the mattress out of the way so he could see under the bed.

            "What?" he hissed at his phone as he snatched the object from under the bed.

            He plopped comfortably onto the floor, leaned back against the bed and crossed his legs. A glance at the caller ID made him catch his breath. He immediately hit the green accept-call button.

            "Yurio.”

...

            Yurio gripped his phone tightly. He was outside the hospital, looking around and waiting for Yuri’s parents to pop out and yell at him for talking to Victor.

            Why did Victor have to sound so awed that Yurio was calling? Jeez, it made the whole Mrs. Katsuki-kicking-Victor-out-of-a-public-hospital thing even worse.

            " _What's wrong? Are you okay— is Yuri okay? Did something happen? You wouldn't call if nothing happened, tell me what happened— lay it on me, what happened? Come on, I’m dying over here—”_

            "Yeah, well, we aren't doing much better on our side," Yurio bit out. He sighed, a hand going up to rub his aching forehead. He was tired of being the go-between.

            He was the messenger between Yuri and his parents, who were sort of not on speaking terms. He was the messenger between Yuri and Victor because Yuri's parents didn't allow him to use a phone. He was the messenger between the doctors and Victor, though nothing had happened yet so that job is technically nonexistent at this point.

            "Look nothing super bad is happening… well…"

            _After his laughter died down, Yuri began shaking wildly and his breathing got ragged. Yurio found himself scooping Yuri’s pale, emaciated body into his arms to hold out through whatever was happening._

_"Woah, Yuri, breath," Yurio said firmly, holding his friend tightly in his arms._

_"Try— ing—" Yuri choked out. His breaths were shallow and jerky. "Can't—"_

_"Don't talk. Just… breath. Please,” Yurio begged, holding Yuri tighter._

_Yuri gripped the front of Yurio's soft, long-sleeved t-shirt, his other hand clenching around Yurio's. Yuri's whole body shook uncontrollably as he gasped for breath. It really felt like Yurio was holding Yuri together with his thin arms._

_"Yu—" Yuri tried to say, unable to use his heavy cotton tongue._

_"Sh, I know. It's okay."_

_"Want— Vic—"_

_"I know, I know. Me too, kid. Me too."_

_Wetness trickled down Yurio's face, splattering onto Yuri's. Yuri momentarily forgot his distress. Looking amazed, he reached out the tremoring hand that had been gripping Yurio's and lightly patted Yurio's face._

_"Don't cry for me. I'll be okay," Yuri grinned, but only half of his face cooperated._

_“You’re right, you’re going to be fine. So try to take a breath okay?”_

_A few minutes later, Yuri’s heart beat had calmed and his breathing evened out. He was asleep, slumped in Yurio’s arms with his neck bent awkwardly so his head could fit under Yurio’s chin._

_Yurio bit his lip, reminding himself that “sleep” and “coma” are different. Yuri was just sleeping off a little— and sudden— panic attack. He was fine. He’d most likely be awake by dinner because, even though he was in a coma and doesn’t remember everything, he still remembers he loves food because he’s a bit of a pig. Everything was fine._

_He poked his head out of the room and dragged the nearest nurse inside, demanding to know how Yuri was. The nurse took vitals, shined a light in Yuri’s eyes, and did a whole list of other things before turning to pat Yurio on the shoulder and tell him Yuri would be fine._

_But Yurio’s brain was forcing him in the opposite direction. It told him that this was just like last time. When Yuri couldn't wake up and no one knew why. When it wasn't clear if Yuri was going to wake up. When Yuri could've lost his personality, or speech or mobility. Yuri wasn't going to wake up._

_Oh God. He needed to call Victor. Yes. Victor would know how to fix this._

_Yurio fumbled in his pocket for a moment before he pulled out a cell phone and he power walked out of the room, making his way outside so he could hide from Mr. And Mrs. Katsuki, neither of which were thrilled with Victor at the moment. Yurio couldn't risk them finding out that he was giving Victor information. If they found out, they might ban Yurio from the hospital, too, and they would have to rely on Mari, who was a wildcard._

_Yurio tugged his hood up and hunched his shoulders, attempting to hide his face from view as he clicked on Victor’s number, which was number one contact in his favourites. He brought the phone to his ear as he jogged around the side of the hospital where emergency vehicles pulled in._

_“He had an anxiety attack?” Victor asked sharply._

            “Yeah, is that normal? Does he get those? What do we know about them?" Yurio asked uncertainly.

            “They’re pretty rare. Normally he just works himself up a little, but not enough to spark a panic attack or anything,” Victor responded quickly.

            "Wait, you knew he got those,  _and you didn't think to tell me_?" Yurio demanded, temper set to start boiling.

            "Yurio, I'm sorry," Victor sounded honestly regretful.

            "Why didn't you say anything?" Yurio demanded, too exhausted to rip his brother a new one.

            Victor sighed into the phone and an almost soothing crackling sound came through the speaker. Yurio wished for the millionth time that Victor was at his side.

            "I thought you knew. I didn't know it was a secret.” Victor sounded embarrassed.

            "Oh my—  _Victor_ ," Yurio complained.

            "I know, I know. I didn't realize… I'm sorry."

            "It's okay, it's just… I was so…" Yurio broke off. "It sucked. It really…. I had no idea what to do. His breathing got all weird and then he just passed out—"

            "What?!" Victor shouted through the phone.

            “Not so loud!" Yurio grumbled, holding the phone away from his ear. He could just see Victor's face turning red with anger and worry, steam blowing out of his ears as well.

            "What do you mean ‘passed out,’ what happened?" Victor demanded.

            "He passed out, but the nurse said he’d be fine.”

            "Okay, okay. That's…. that's good. Thanks for telling me."

            "No problem. I'd want to know too."

            It was silent for a minute before Yurio realized that Victor was probably holding back on the talking. When Victor was nervous, he had a habit of babbling endlessly. Yurio liked to hear voices of the people he cared about when he was stressed, so it would be a win-win all around.

            "Sooo…." Yurio started awkwardly.

            "Yeah?" Victor sounded a bit strangled.

            "Do you wanna talk?" That little question set off an avalanche of babbling.

            “Do you know how many freaking blue flowers are in this godforsaken hotel room? Orchids, daisies, carnations— there's freaking roses. Blue roses— and do you know what blue roses stand for? Oh. My God. Let me read it to you. Hold on, I just have to find it, it's so stupid it hurts…"


	11. Mother Knows Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> TW: homophobia, brief mentioning of child abuse/neglect, gaslighting  
> I took liberties.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri!!! On Ice  
> Hey, so, this started out super long, and I chopped it way down so some things seem a little short and quickly resolved. I’m passing it off as leaving room for the reader’s interpretation.  
> Also time skips.  
> Have a good one, my loves!

CH11— Mother Knows Best

            Everything was okay. Everything was _fine_. It had been two months of Victor avoiding the hospital like it was court ordered, and it was fine. It had been two months of Yuri having no idea where Victor was or if he was okay, and it was fine.

            By now, Yuri was sporting tight-lipped smiles that were so false, they looked believable. He wondered if people just stopped caring. Maybe his family and nurses were so exhausted and stressed, that they didn’t even notice. He couldn’t bring himself to care. He was sick of the hospital, the medication, the bustling nurses, the frustrating PT— he just wanted to go home.

            The only problem was that he didn’t know where home was.

            Was it with his suffocating, guilt-tripping, combative parents?

            Was it with his laid-back, disconnected sister?

            Was it with the skating friends he was supposed to know, but didn’t?

            Yuri just kept waiting for his memories to come back, hoping they’d answer that question. The problem was that his memory came slowly and weirdly. Things he saw and heard were powerfully familiar, but he couldn’t tell the specifics of an actual memory. He remembered in feelings and thoughts, not concrete images. It was like having a whole memory on the tip of the tongue.

            For example, the morning Yuri was given clearance to eat at a table, instead of in his bed, he ate breakfast with his family at a real table for the first time in months. He sat next to Mari, who was being grilled for not visiting Yuri enough, which was incredibly awkward because Yuri understood that Mari might have better things to do than take up residence in a hospital, and he didn’t want her to stop coming because their parents pressured her so much about it. He was also pretty certain that Mari wasn’t at the hospital every day because she had a job to help fund Yuri’s hospital bills, which only made him feel worse. But instead of admitting she got another job, Mari roped Yuri into a completely false tale about why she couldn’t visit and Yuri could only smile and nod along because, the whole time, he was trying to push down guilt and grab hold of the memory teasing the back of his mind.

            The memory was more of a strong sense of dejavu. He knew he’d sat at a breakfast table and helped someone carry a lie along before. While that wasn’t a completely rare thing, Yuri had the feeling that this memory about making up a false story with someone at the table was important. Usually the things that felt important had to do with the people he’d forgotten.

            The dejavu and his slow memory were probably the biggest reasons why he wanted to get out of the hospital at the soonest chance, but he actually wasn’t too sure why he had such a sudden and urgent need to leave. He didn’t even know where he wanted to go, just that he needed to get away.

            Maybe it had to do with the fact that he was getting more and more frustrated by the day. He was upset almost 80% of the time for no reason at all. Patients all around him were suffering much more than himself but they were mature and level-headed about it. And, all Yuri did was complain about pills and IVs, and whine at the nurses who generously chased down his favourite Jello once they realized Victor wasn’t coming back to—

            “Morning Yuri,” a nurse with a pixie cut said pleasantly as she shuffled into his room.

            Yuri looked up with a blank expression, which didn’t affect the nurse at all. She was holding something behind her back and bounced a bit on the balls of her feet. Once she had Yuri’s attention, she brought whatever was in her hand around to the front, displaying it like a gameshow girl on TV would display a prize.

            “It’s red Jello!” she crowed loudly. “I snuck it from the back, so don’t tell anyone,” she said, even though she always brought contraband red Jello on green Jello day. Yuri couldn’t help but crack a grin.

            “I got him to smile!”

            “Okay, Momo, calm down,” Yuri said tiredly.

            Nurse Rein poked her head into the room, while another nurse shouted a meaningful “congratulations” for Momo’s success from down the hall.

            “Pretty please, can I have my Jello?” Yuri pleaded, reaching out with grabby hands.

            Momo grinned, handing him his treat and a spoon she pulled from the pocket of her sky-blue scrubs.

            “I got him to eat without force or bribery,” she said proudly to Nurse Rein, who stood in the doorway.

            The two nurses watched until Yuri finished his Jello, making sure he ate it all. He wanted to speak up about how creepy being watched was, but Nurse Rein would just give him a scary look or another lecture if he complained, so he stayed silent.

            Nurse Rein smiled at him proudly when he handed Momo a now empty Jello container. That was why he loved Nurse Rein. He liked all his nurses, but favoured Nurse Rein because she wouldn’t pat him on the head and call him a “good boy” for eating his food. She would just give him a proud parent smile and move on.

            After the empty cup had been received as proof of Yuri having eaten, the nurses retreated and left his door wide open. At the beginning of his stay, Yuri constantly asked for the door to be closed, but Yuri quickly discovered that loneliness was worse than obnoxious intruders.

            _Oh, but Yuri, how could you be lonely? Where are your parents?_

            How kind of you to ask, empty water bottle under the long-vacated chair beside the bed.

            Yuri’s parents were more interested in fighting— no, _discussing_ things. They were always discussing. Loudly. With a lot of hand gestures, and in very public places.

            They discussed things like, what they were going to do when Yuri was released home. Mrs. Katsuki’s work was very involved, and she often couldn’t leave it. She cleaned up after and tended to fifty some guests on her own without any staff help— there could be no slacking. Only laundry.

            But Mr. Katsuki wasn’t lazy, if that was what Mrs. Katsuki was implying. He worked too. And, of course Mrs. Katsuki didn’t mean that Mr. Katsuki was lazy, he’s just being defensive. Mr. Katsuki isn’t defensive. Well, Mrs. Katsuki is just being honest. Mr. Katsuki would appreciate a little kindness. Mrs. Katsuki is just trying to help.

            _Discussing_.

            It was worse having to hear it while he was alone in his room and his parents were just outside the door, thinking that they were whispering when they were really whisper-yelling and could be heard through the door.

            _Oh, but what about Yurio? Isn’t he still visiting?_

            What a great question, Jello spoon that Momo forgot to throw away.

            Yurio had been MIA since Yuri’s episode. After some quick interrogating of the nurses, Yuri found out that, after his attack, Yurio was seen behind the hospital making a phone call. The nurses mentioned that his shoulders shook like he was crying, and Yuri knew of only one person Yurio would ever cry to. Victor.

            That could only mean that Victor either couldn’t solve the problem Yurio was crying about, or the problem was solved and Yurio just didn’t want to come back.

 

~

 

            Victor didn’t want to know that Yuri had some kind of panic attack at the hospital. He didn’t want to know that his parents were arguing more and spending less time with Yuri. He didn’t want to know that the Katsuki’s financial situation was getting so tight that Mari worked two jobs to pay the bills instead of being with her brother. He didn’t want to know that Yuri was having crazy mood swings, rarely ate, and had no energy. But Yurio kept telling him. Yurio had been secretly calling Victor for weeks. Victor felt like they were the mafia gathering intel about a new target. It felt like they were doing something wrong.

            But he had to know. Every second Yurio wasn’t updating him on what was going on was a second something could be happening. What if Yuri’s medication changed and he had an allergic reaction? What if he had another panic attack and his heart stopped? What if he slipped getting out of bed, hit his head, and fell into another coma? What if he woke up one day and had forgotten everything he remembered after the coma?

            Information was like an addiction. He kept going back and forth between a desperate need for it, and an apathetic desire to forget about it because, some days, he was just so _done_.

            He was done with nightmares about his friend dying. And the guilt that he might have had a hand in Yuri’s accident. He was tired of hating, but also understanding Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki for not letting him see their son anymore. He wanted to go back to before the accident. And some days, he wanted to go back to before he knew about Yuri hurting himself.

            He wanted everything to be normal. When everybody lived easy, when he skated with his friends every day, when he joined in the playful competition between his two Yuri’s, when he didn’t know so much about the inner workings of hospitals, the kinds of difficult decisions doctors faced, and the extent of the underappreciation of nurses.

            And it wasn’t just Victor suffering. Every time Yurio called, his voice sounded ragged. To anyone else, it might’ve sounded like Yurio had a cold, or had just been running, but Victor knew what suppressed tears sounded like. And it just made him feel worse.

            The poor kid wasn’t doing well. He spent most of his time at the hospital with Yuri because the Katsuki’s showed up less and less. He was the messenger caught between the Katsuki’s and Yuri, Yuri and Victor, Victor and the Katsuki’s— he once mentioned that it felt like he was a spy for three different countries that were all secretly trading information through him. So, when he showed up at Victor’s hotel suit with a grey suitcase and a downtrodden expression, Victor opened his door wide.

            For a while, living together was pretty easy. Neither of them got out of bed before noon, both of them had nightmares, both of them looked like zombies, and neither of them said anything about any of it. Eventually, Victor got sick of the heavy, tired, uncaring feeling that comes with lazing about and lying in bed all day, he tried to get Yurio out of the house for skating, shopping, eating out, literally anything that would get them out of the building.

            Yurio’s response to his efforts was breaking or throwing whatever was nearby. They hid the shards of a broken vase in Victor’s sock drawer and a cracked picture frame in Yurio’s closet. In contrast to this behaviour, Yurio started camping out on Victor’s bed. Victor went to sleep next to Yurio, who would play on his phone, and he woke up to the same. Yurio was always playing on his phone. Victor hadn’t seen him sleep or eat since he moved in.

            But teenagers were weird. Plenty of teens liked to stay up late. And, as for the early rising thing, it was probably just engrained in him from his years of skating and dancing practice. Teenagers also had weird eating habits and were very fond of their phones. Victor convinced himself that this was all that was at play but, eventually, he realized he had to stop kidding himself.

            After he realized this, Victor decided he had to confront Yurio about it. It was always “I’ll do it tomorrow,” “let’s wait until after we eat,” and so on. He always managed to find an excuse when he tried to plan a day to talk to Yurio, so he decided to do it randomly.

            One morning, while he and Yurio were lounging across his bed, Victor noticed Yurio’s behaviour get a little more concerning. Yurio was lying across the mattress, head and back hanging off one end with his feet dangling over the other. His expressionless gaze was glued to the screen of his phone, but his thumbs weren’t moving across the screen. Noticing this, Victor eased off the bed to kneel on the floor and tipped his head so he could look up at what Yurio was doing on his phone.

            The screen displayed a conversation in a messaging app, but Victor was at a bad angle and couldn’t read the messages. It looked like Yurio was staring at a response he’d received and was either rereading it over and over again, or he wasn’t paying attention to what he was looking at.

            “Yurio,” Victor said lightly, trying not to startle him. Yurio didn’t respond. “Yurio? I know you can hear me,” Victor said uncertainly. He still received no response, not even a twitch.

            He reached out a hand to jostle Yurio to get his attention, but the moment Victor touched his shoulder, Yurio jerked away, rolled to the side, and plummeted off the bed with a high yelp.

            “Hey!” Yurio shouted angrily.

            Victor winced guiltily and reached out a hand to help Yurio up, secretly pleased to get such a _Yurio_ reaction out of his friend. It had been a long time since Yurio was his usual, overdramatic self.

            “Sorry, I just wanted to know what you were doing. You looked… frozen” Victor said, unable to find a better word. “Actually, you’ve looked frozen for the past couple of weeks. I just… I thought it’d fix itself, I guess.”

            Yurio stared down at the floor once he was back on his feet, eyes flicking around the room without looking at Victor.

            “Are you okay?” Victor prompted.

            Yurio looked up through his eyelashes, finally facing Victor.

            “You’re not going to like it,” Yurio muttered.

            “What do you mean?” Victor asked. He remembered another friend who was so hesitant to tell him something, fearing his reaction. “Yurio, are you…” Victor trailed off, still unable to say the no-no word.

            “Am I wha— oh!” Yurio exclaimed, suddenly realizing what Victor meant. “No! No, I’m not… I’m not doing that.”

            Victor took a few steps back and sagged against the wall with intoxicating relief while Yurio awkwardly picked at the sleeve of his shirt.

            “Good, good. Um, still, something’s bothering you. Could you… could you tell me what it is?” Victor asked cautiously.

            “Victor…” Yurio trailed off. He was about to say something else but there was a sharp knock on the door.

            “Ah, that would be housekeeping,” Victor said, moving to go answer the door.

            “Um, Victor?” Yurio snagged the sleeve of Victor’s sweatshirt, following his roommate.

            “Hold that thought, we can go down to the café to talk after I let housekeeping in,” Victor promised.

            “Actually, Victor—”

            “No, Yurio. Don’t say that it can wait, or that it’s not important, or whatever. We both know that, if we wait, we’ll try to push it off until later. We have to do it now,” Victor interrupted.

            Having one friend in the hospital was bad enough. He had a horrible feeling that pushed him to get to the bottom of what was going on with Yurio before something bad happened.

            Yurio followed Victor through the house. Once Victor reached the door, Yurio ducked under his arm and moved in front of him, arms outstretched as if he was shielding the door from Victor.

            “I’ll do it!” Yurio said a bit too enthusiastically.

            “That’s okay, I can do it,” Victor said, grabbing Yurio by the shoulder to pull him out of the way.

            The knock was louder and more insistent but was also followed by a few muttering voices. Victor was pretty sure only one woman came to clean the suit but figured that there might be a trainee with the usual cleaning lady. Shrugging, Victor tugged the door open.

            He turned to face housekeeping after giving Yurio another promise to talk. It seemed like the kid thought Victor was going to get distracted with the housekeeping ladies and would let their much needed conversation die. It also sounded like that was what Yurio wanted, but it wasn’t going to happen.

            Then Victor looked down to see that, standing in his doorway, was a boy with dark hair, a blue jacket, and big, tired eyes.

            “Yuri…” Victor breathed. “Yuri, you…” He felt soft heat spread through his body and he wondered for a brief second how he gave this up.

            “Victor, I’m so glad you’re okay!” Yuri’s weary eyes lit up with relief, effectively stabbing Victor with guilt and making him wonder if his parents didn’t tell him they’d sent Victor away.

            “Just remember, I tried to tell you,” Yurio’s voice floated from somewhere off in the suit. Before Victor could ask him what he meant, Yurio backed away from the door and disappeared back into the bedroom.

            “Yu—” Yuri tried to call after him. “Was that Yurio?”

            Yuri stood on his tiptoes and tried to peer over Victor’s shoulder. Victor nodded slowly, feeling like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. Yuri looked betrayed for a moment but closed off his expression and nodded.

            “I’m glad he’s okay,” Yuri said neutrally.

            At that moment, Victor realized that Yurio didn’t tell Yuri he was moving in with Victor. Then he realized that Yurio probably also didn’t tell Yuri that he wasn’t visiting the hospital again.

            “Wait, when did you get out of the hospital?” Victor asked, finally processing that Yuri was standing on his doorstep. “Yurio said you’ve still got a few weeks left.”

            That was when he saw who was standing behind Yuri. A tall woman with long white-blonde hair stood in a crimson business suit. She held a large leather handbag, and a fake mole was dotted by her red lip.

            “Yuri, what did you do?” Victor demanded, not taking his eyes of the woman.

            Yuri glanced between Victor and the woman with a confused expression.

            “What do you mean? This nice lady said—”

            “This is not a ‘nice lady.’ I don’t want you talking to her— and I don’t want you talking to him,” Victor snapped, directing his last demand at the woman.

            The woman rolled her eyes at him from where she posed confidently behind Yuri, who was reeling back from Victor’s sudden change in tone. The woman patted his shoulder with a gloved hand as a false show of support.

            “Don’t worry, dear, he’s just upset about that mistake I made all those years ago that I told you about. He’s just taking it out on you, but it’ll all be okay after he and I talk it out,” she said in a sweet voice.

            Yuri nodded, smiling tightly, seeming to honestly be comforted by that. Victor felt a sinking feeling in his gut as he started to grasp what was going on.

            “Dear, God, she’s got you, too,” Victor muttered faintly, taking a step back.

            Yuri looked even more bewildered and the woman sighed.

            “Victor, why don’t you invite us in? That way we can discuss this in a more… private place.” The woman’s voice was incredibly condescending, and Victor felt the urge to slap the hand that reached out to pat Yuri’s head when the boy looked back at her in concern.

            “You don’t control me anymore,” Victor said firmly, though his voice shook. “I want you to leave.”

            The woman pursed her lips in frustration and Yuri let out a sad, surprised sound.

            “Don’t worry, love—” the woman started.

            “Don’t call him that,” Victor interrupted coolly, taking a step closer to Yuri.

            “What?” the woman asked innocently.

            “Don’t call him ‘love’,” he answered flatly, knowing she had heard him.

            “You always were one to order people around,” she said lightly. “Seems you never grew out of that power complex.”

            Yuri glanced back and forth between her and Victor, clearly confused about the interaction. The woman kept a fake pleasant look on her face while Victor glared at her with unbridled disgust.

            “Victor?” Yuri asked hesitantly, seeming almost afraid of him.

            “Yes?” Victor softened his voice, but he didn’t look away from the woman who was eyeing Yuri like he was a piece of meat. Victor hated that. Yuri was much more than just something pretty to look at, and he wasn’t _hers_ to look at, anyways.

            “Why are you being so mean to your mother?” Yuri asked bluntly.

            With twin grimaces at that last word, Victor and the woman looked away. Yuri noticed and opened his mouth, probably to let out a slew of apologies, but Victor tossed an arm around his shoulders. His heart fluttered when Yuri subconsciously leaned into the half-hug.

            “Why don’t you guys come in? This seems like it’s going to be a while,” Victor said as evenly as he could. He pulled Yuri into the hotel room, closely followed by the woman.

 

~

 

            Yuri wished he’d taken Yurio’s example of running off and hiding. He wished he’d slipped out the door after Victor and his mother were both inside. He wished he had the courage to get up and walk right out of the room at this very second, but he couldn’t. He was stuck sitting between two angry polar opposites on a fancy blue linen couch, hugging one of Victor’s big grey throw pillows.

            For the time being, the three sat in complete silence. Mrs. Nikiforov leaned comfortably back against the couch, ankles crossed, and hands folded in her lap. Victor, however, was stiffer, tenser, and sat up straight. And Yuri hunched between them, hugging a pillow for protection, wishing he could disappear. The silence probably wouldn’t last long, though. Victor and his mother would start fighting again any second. And the sooner that happened, the sooner Yuri could get the heck out of there.

            He just wanted to do something nice. For both Victor and his mother. He felt so bad that Victor felt responsible for the accident. He looked stressed and exhausted, even when he first opened the door and didn’t know his mother was there. And Mrs. Nikiforov just wanted to spend time with her son and apologize for something nonspecific that she’d done a long time ago when Victor was a kid. How was he supposed to know that Victor hated her? Or that Victor’s mother was a little meaner than she let on at first?

            “Yuri,” Victor said, voice loud compared to the quiet of the room. “How are you here?”

            “Oh. Um. I may have lied a bit to my parents to get out of the house,” Yuri admitted.

            “You made him lie?” Victor faced his mother, face reddening.

            “She didn’t make me,” Yuri said, hands waving like white flags of surrender. “I told my parents that the mother of one of my friends was looking for her son and hadn’t seen him in a while, so she was nervous about meeting him and asked me to come for support. I technically didn’t lie. I just… omitted some things.”

            “How did she find you? Hospital records are classified, aren’t they?”

            “She came by the springs,” Yuri said. “Why would you guess she came by the hosp—”

            “She went to your house? You went to his house? How did you find him?” Victor demanded furiously.

            “Victor, don’t yell at her!” Yuri scolded while simultaneously flinching under Victor’s tone. “She was scared to meet you on your own, and I can see why. Besides, my home isn’t exactly a secret. She found the springs with a quick Google search. She did nothing wrong.”

            “She Googled where you lived and showed up at your house without permission, I’d say that’s something wro—wait, back up, how long have you even been out of the hospital?”

            “A few weeks,” Yuri said. “Anyways, your mom really wants to talk to you. She said she made some kind of mistake when you were a kid and she took herself out of your life to protect you from her, in case she did something bad again. But she’s back and wants to apologize!”

            “I’m sure. Mother what are you doing here?” Victor asked, obviously exasperated.

            “I came because I want to see my son,” she said with a grossly fond smile.

            “You never hunt me down unless you want money, you need me to do something for you, or you have a reason to shout at me. So, what is it this time? What do I have to give you for you to leave?” Victor demanded.

            “Victor!” Yuri hissed, surprised by Victor’s rudeness. He understood that there was some bad blood between Victor and his mother, but Victor was being really unwelcoming and disrespectful. Yuri couldn’t imagine treating either of his parents like that, no matter what they did.

            “Yuri, please stay out of this,” Victor said not unkindly. “You don’t know what happened between us. There’s no way you could understand.”

            “That could be true, but you shouldn’t be so rude. She may not be perfect, but she loves you. She came all this way—”

            “Yuri, she’s here for money, a favour, or to yell at me. That’s just how she is, so please stay out of it. I don’t want you caught in the middle,” Victor said seriously, grabbing Yuri’s hand.

            Yuri was staring at the hand that was clasped in Victor’s and stayed quiet, mostly out of surprise and chagrin. As much as Yuri hated to admit it, Victor was right. Yuri didn’t know anything about Victor’s relationship with his mother, and he definitely shouldn’t have shown up with her uninvited and unannounced. He blushed furiously and kept his mouth shut.

            “Now, Mother, what do you want?” Victor demanded, thumb smoothing over the back of Yuri’s hand like he sensed Yuri’s embarrassment and regret.

            “Oh, Victor. You know how much I love you—” Mrs. Nikiforov started in a heartfelt voice. She was quickly cut off by Victor, who seemed to recognize her act for what she really wanted.

            “How much?” Victor asked defeatedly, shifting and pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.

            Yuri’s jaw dropped while Victor’s mother fluttered her eyelashes at her son.

            “Victor, you are such a dear to your mother,” she said, her voice dripping with overly sweet gratitude.

            Victor didn’t even acknowledge her and began leafing through a substantial number of bills. He handed the money out to his mother’s outstretched hand, but Yuri stopped him without realizing what he was doing. He leapt up and clamped a hand on Victor’s wrist.

            “Yuri, what—?” Victor began. He was cut off by an angry Yuri.

            “You’re using him— she’s using you, and you’re _letting_ her!” Yuri hissed.

            Victor’s expression softened, but he shook his head and tried to remove himself from Yuri’s grasp, but Yuri’s grip tightened.

            “Yuri, this is just how it is,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

            “I thought…. I thought…”

            “You _didn’t_ think. You’re just a stupid boy,” Victor’s mother said flatly like it was a fact, not an insult. “Real sharp friend, you got there, Victor. Now give it to me, and I’ll be on my way.”

            The loving mother act dropped so suddenly Yuri couldn’t help but flinch from the whiplash, causing Victor to stand up next to him in response.

            Don’t call him that,” Victor said calmly, though his body shook with anger.

            Mrs. Nikiforov ignored the pair and reached for the money lying on Victor’s palm, but Yuri jerked Victor out of the way, money and all.

            “I’m your mother,” Mrs. Nikiforov said, raising her voice as she stood to tower over Yuri by at least three inches.

            “You’re not my mother,” Victor spat, defending himself against his mother for the first time since Yuri had brought her to the hotel. “You’re nothing but a lying, stealing bully who screws with not only my life, but the lives of the people I care about!”

            “It’s not my fault I need a little help every now and then. You should try to be more understanding of people in need,” the woman scolded.

            “I’d be more understanding if you actually worked. If you aren’t stealing, you’re still a bully who messes with people’s lives,” Victor’s voice cracked, but it stayed firm. “Or else, what’s your excuse for hurting me all those times when I lived with you?”

            Yuri gripped Victor’s sleeve and Victor reached almost frantically reached to squeeze Yuri’s hand in his own.

            “It wasn’t that bad, you’re just dramatic,” the woman scoffed. “And, besides, I must not have done enough of whatever you’re crying about, seeing what you’ve done with yourself.”

            Yuri blinked in confusion, not catching what the woman meant, but Victor seemed to know exactly what she was saying.

            “Don’t you dare talk like that in front of him,” Victor warned in a cold, hallow voice.

            Mrs. Nikiforov smirked like she just won the round and was never caught counting the deck.

            “Touch a sore spot, did I? Don’t want your little friend to know you’re just a sick, backwards little—”

            “Don’t you say it!” a fourth voice shouted from deeper in the suit.

            The equally startled crowd of three looked up as they heard the pounding of feet heading towards the living area. Yurio stopped in the threshold of the room, breathing heavily from having charged all the way across the suit.

            “Don’t you dare say that in front of Yuri, because I swear to God if you do, I won’t be responsible for what I do to you, what Victor will do to you, or what any of our many strong, athletic friends would do to you, so you better stop while you’re ahead, lady!” Yurio gasped out, eyes smoldering with anger.

            “What can’t she say?” Yuri asked, feeling as if he was missing something.

            “The slur for men who date other men,” Victor muttered under his breath, hand slipping out of Yuri’s.

            Yuri stared down at his hand, feeling cold. The arguing continued around him, but he tuned it out easily until the voices sounded muted and distorted.

            “Victor I remember something,” Yuri said matter of factly.

            Victor’s head swung to stare at him in surprise, warming Yuri’s heart with the fact that, even faced with his hateful mother, Victor’s priority was still Yuri.

            “Oh, my God. Do you feel okay? Do you need to sit down? Sit down, sit down! Do you need water? Yurio what did the doctors say about—”

            “Victor, I’m okay—” Yuri tried, but Victor was shouting orders.

            “Yurio, get a blanket in case he goes into shock, Mother get a glass of water from the kitchen! And hurry!” He barked before turning to Yuri with a softer tone. “Yuri, I need you to sit down, okay?”

            Yuri was distracted by his surprise when Mrs. Nikiforov actual moved to obey and disappeared into the kitchen. He wondered briefly if maybe Victor’s mother wasn’t as bad as she seemed, or if she was just trying to make Victor happy so he’d give her money.

            “Victor, seriously. I’m fine,” Yuri said louder, gripping Victor’s shirt to get his attention.

            “Oh,” Victor said, looking surprised and a little embarrassed. “You’re sure?”

            “Yeah.

            “But…”

            “I just remembered something,” Yuri said. “I’m not having an attack.”

            “Oh. Oh, that’s good. Um, what did you remember?” he asked softly, looking nervous.

            “I remember…” Yuri paused, trying to decipher the vague feelings and fragmented thoughts that made up his returning memory. “I think I remember that you love me.”


	12. Teatime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> I’m bad at writing conflict but it has to happen someone please bless this chapter it needs help alleluia amen  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri!!! On Ice  
> TW: brief descriptions of child abuse/neglect, suicide, and contains PTSD typical reactions, dissociation, homophobia and gaslighting (it sounds bad, but everything is really surface level, PM for concerns!)  
> Also, if POV transitions aren’t clear enough, let me know. There’s kind of a lot in this chapter.

CH12— Teatime

 

            Yurio was scared. He sat stiffly on one of the comfy, grey armchairs angled catty-corner to the sofa holding Yuri and Victor, waiting for _her_ to come back from the kitchen.

            Yurio had never met Victor’s mother up close. It was the only demand Victor ever had of him and he found himself reluctantly obeying that one order. However, he did see her once, at Mr. Nikiforov’s funeral.

            He thought Victor’s mother wasn’t going to show, but near the end of the funeral, he noticed a lanky woman in a long black skirt and dark sunglasses standing off on the edge of the cemetery. The fact that she wore shades in the rain was the strongest memory that Yurio had of Victor’s mother.

            Almost a second after Yurio saw her, Victor noticed and fixed his mother with a fierce glare. In response, the woman pursed her lips and strutted off to a sleek black car that jetted her away. Even after she left, Victor still looked sick to his stomach and furious.

            And here she was, intruding on his and Victor’s safe haven. Yurio was not pleased. He was actually kind of terrified of her, and of the reactions she elicited from Victor. Mrs. Nikiforov brought out the worst in him. She made him so angry that he would yell and seethe and rant, then he would lose all energy and reluctantly give her whatever it took to make her go away.

            Seeing Victor so angry was freaking Yurio out, which made Victor embarrassed about how he was acting, and all of it upset Yuri and everything was just a disaster.

            “So, Yuri, tell me about yourself,” Victor’s mother said after she came back with four cups and a pot of chamomile tea.

            Yuri trailed sent a panicked look to Victor with wild, pleading eyes.

            “Yuri won silver at the Grand Prix.” Victor beamed at his student, who smiled shyly under the attention.

              “That’s nice,” the woman said, sounding honestly pleased. “But I was thinking about something more… tragic. Yuri, I hear you had a recent fall? Something about a cliff?”

            “That was an accident,” Yuri said uncertainly, looking to Victor for confirmation.

            Victor immediately looked down to his lap. Yuri hadn’t exactly been free and willing with the details of his misadventure, if he even remembered them. Victor probably had a good idea as to what happened, and so did Yurio. To call it an accident was a stretch.

            “An accident?” Victor’s mother asked, eyebrow raising as she sipped her tea.

            “Slipped,” Yuri answered curtly.

            “Was it wet, outside?” she asked suspiciously,

            “Yeah,” Yuri said weakly.

            “You had to have been somewhere deep in the forest, then. There would’ve been signs up to warn hikers about cliffs and dangerous spots like that.”

            “Probably.”

            “Maybe you were distracted, or having a bad day and… well, saw an opportunity?”

            “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean… ma’am,” Yuri stated flatly, looking at her over the rim of his teacup. Yurio felt a swell of pride at the sheer levels of sass flowing out of Yuri, who was usually polite and quiet.

            “Well, I don’t know everything, of course, but I do know that you’ve been struggling for a while. That your heart,” she paused and put a hand over her chest, “your heart is heavy.”

            Her sympathetic smile and voice were both so fake, Yurio couldn’t help but laugh.

            “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath, hiding it behind a cough.

            “You okay, Yurio?” Yuri asked, leaning on the edge of his seat with concerned eyes.

            “Yeah, great,” Yurio said.

            “Boys, please,” Mrs. Nikiforov reprimanded when Victor joined his laugh-coughing.

            Victor made an ugly face at her when she looked away, making Yurio snicker.

            “You’re not children,” Mrs. Nikiforov tried again.

            “Actually…” Victor trailed off, looking over to Yurio, who snorted.

            Yuri glanced between the both of them, bewildered by the sudden change in the tense atmosphere while Victor’s mother sipped her tea, pinky out.

            “Am I missing something?” Yuri asked over Yurio and Victor’s laughter.

            “You’d think my son would be a little more welcoming, a little more kind,” Mrs. Nikiforov said with a sniff. “Especially to his own mother.”

            Victor’s laughter became cynical and Yurio went cold at the sound.

            “I’m not going to be _kind_ to a—” Victor was interrupted by his mother.

            “I raised you to be better than this,” she hissed.

            Victor raised an eyebrow and gave her a challenging look, taking a deep breath.

 

~

 

            “Well, if I’m such a disappointment and a waste, why’d you keep me?” Victor demanded hoarsely, face red.

            “Do you know how bad it would look to the public if an up and coming actress suddenly gave up her bastard child?”

            “Don’t call him that,” Yuri interjected weakly, but no one seemed to hear him.

            “Maybe instead of thinking about yourself all the time, you should’ve thought about your child instead,” Victor hissed as Yuri cowered between him and his mother.

            “And if I did give you up, where would you be? Living with people who work night and day, yet still can’t provide for you, like your little friend here is?” she pointed at Yuri, who glared at her.

            “At least he gets support,” Victor said, sounding more tired and exasperated than angry. “He may not have the fanciest things, but he knows he’s loved.”

            “Don’t act like I never gave you anything. I’ve done so much for—”

            “I’m not saying you never gave me anything, I’m saying you treated your own kid like he was a mistake—”

            “You’re not a mistake,” Yuri piped up. He latched onto Victor, who held on and angled Yuri away from Mrs. Nikiforov.

            “Are you one of those… homosexual people?” Mrs. Nikiforov asked suspiciously.

            The room went silent. Yurio glanced up at Yuri and Victor, expression silently questioning. Yuri’s heart stuttered and his skin flushed hot and cold at the same time.

            “Wait, what?” Yuri asked, hoping he misheard and knowing he didn’t.

            “Are you a homosexual?” Victor’s mother repeated.

            “That’s what I thought you said,” he whispered. It wasn’t so much the question, as it was the way it was asked. It was accusatory, like asking someone if they had committed a crime.

            “How is that any of your business?” Victor asked, glaring daggers at his mother.

            “Um, I don’t…” Yuri trailed off. He felt like a complicated mix of uncomfortable, offended, and a little scared.

            “You’re spending a lot of time with my son, right? That makes it my business.” Mrs. Nikiforov leaned back, sipping her tea casually.

            “Uh, actually, we haven’t really seen much of each other, lately,” Yuri said softly, avoiding Victor’s eyes.

            “Interesting. Still, it’s a simple question—”

            “Stop, it,” Victor snapped, cutting her off. “Don’t ask him again, or I’ll kick you out.”

            The woman’s expression changed from surprised at the outburst, to knowing and smug.

            “I _thought_ so,” she said as she shifted a little further away from Yuri on the couch.

            Yuri mirrored her actions and flinched away from her and into Victor, who bodily pulled him away from his mother. Yurio caught on, conveniently placing himself between Yuri and Mrs. Nikiforov, and Yuri couldn’t help but feel safer because of it.

            “Is there a _problem_?” Victor asked with a steely voice.

            Yuri felt rumbly vibrations coming from his friend’s chest when he spoke. He felt a tingly sort of warm.

            “Victor, I just want to make sure you’re making the right decisions—”

            “The right de—” Victor’s voice pitched up an octave and he broke off with hysterical laughter. “Since when have you cared about whether or not I make the right _decisions_?”

            “Victor, the things you do can affect—”

            “Oh right, I forgot,” he interrupted. “The moment something I do affects you, you come right back to keep your stupid kid from doing anything that will make you look bad. Like, for instance, caring about the _wrong_ _people_ ,” Victor said, arm tightening around Yuri.

            Yuri thought he was going to have a heart attack. Tight chest, shortness of breath, rapid heartbeat— those were the symptoms of a heart attack, right? Wasn’t his arm supposed to be numb, or something? Was he too young to have a heart attack? He couldn’t seem to hear the muffled conversation around him, was he going deaf, too?

            Yuri briefly wondered if Victor had actually told him about his mother, and Yuri just didn’t remember. He felt like a complete jerk. The words of an apology and some kind of an explanation sat on the tip of his dry tongue. If he had just remembered, then he would’ve turned Victor’s mother away at the door, sent a quick warning text to tell Victor she was in town, and he wouldn’t have had to come to the suit where he was suffocating and shaking and—

            “Yuri, breathe, you idiot,” Yurio said in his ear, yanking his arm urgently.

            Yuri hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. He felt a warm hand rub his back and heard soft murmurs in his other ear. He grasped onto probably Victor’s shoulder and Yurio’s knee, and focused on the soft voice.

            “Yuri,” the soft voice in his other ear whispered. “Yuri, breathe.”

            “V-Vi…” even after taking a deep breath and licking his dry lips, Yuri couldn’t get passed the first syllable.

            “Yeah, I’m here, I’m here,” Victor responded urgently.

            “Vic…” It was like he couldn’t get enough air, like he was sucking through a straw, but the straw was really thin and possibly not even hollow, what was happening, _what was—_

“Calm down, love, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. What do you need, what can I do?”

            “I… I…” Yuri choked on the little air he was getting. How was _he_ supposed to know what to do? He didn’t even know what was going on!

            “Don’t force yourself—  just breathe,” Victor said, rubbing Yuri’s arms briskly.

            “This is ridiculous. Is he okay?” Mrs. Nikiforov’s voice came from miles away.

            “Yeah, he’s perfectly fine. Just got out of the hospital only to be tricked into bringing a banshee to see her son, and got attacked with stupid questions that brought up bad memories. Yeah, he’s _fine_ , you insensitive lump of flesh,” Yurio sneered.

            “S-sorry,” Yuri managed before he bit his tongue with chattering teeth. Goosebumps rose on his arms and every nerve was ringing with warning, telling him he was vulnerable, unsafe, unprotected.

            “Don’t apologize, it’s annoying,” Yurio complained.

            Yuri didn’t respond and only reached out a shaking hand towards his younger friend. Yurio looked at him with a confused expression that Yuri took as rejection. He scooted away, taking his arm with him.

            “If you need something, just say it, moron,” Yurio grumbled irritably, pulling Yuri back and putting an arm around his shoulders. Yuri reached around Yurio’s torso and held on as if for dear life.

            “S-sor—”

            “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Yurio said gruffly, ruffling Yuri’s dark hair.

             “Obscene,” Victor’s mother grumbled into her teacup, sounding ill as she watched them.

            “If you can’t at least pretend to be civil, you can get out of my home,” Victor warned.

            “Home? Your home is in Russia,” his mother said with a kind smile.

            “Don’t make me laugh, lady. That place was—” Yurio was silenced by a look from Victor.

            “Was your… the place you grew up in, was it bad?” Yuri asked urgently in a warbling voice.

            Victor looked like he had been slapped in the face and Yuri instantly regretted asking. If he didn’t like his mother, chances were he had bad memories of the place he was raised in, too.

            “It’s not important, Yuri, Victor said flatly. “Don’t worry about it.”

            “But...” Yuri trailed off uncertainly. Victor and his mother clearly didn’t get along, but it seemed like it was more than that.

            “Yuri, leave it,” Yurio hissed.

            Yuri fell silent, turning so his face pressed into in Victor’s chest. A hand placed in his hair told him he was forgiven.

            “No, Yuri has the right to ask,” Victor’s mother spoke up. “Or are you keeping secrets from your friends, now?”

            “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Victor snapped. “You were a horrible parent, which made the place I lived in pretty bad, too. Why would I want to talk about that?”

            “Well, I couldn’t have been all that bad of a mother. Though I clearly went wrong somewhere. I mean look who you’re spending your time with. An immature child, and someone who’s just as twisted as you.”

            “Get out,” Yurio demanded, leaping from the couch, Victor not far behind.

            “Get out of my home, you hateful, selfish, egotistical, homophobic, self-righteous—”

            “Careful, Victor, I don’t think Russia can hear you yet,” Mrs. Nikiforov said dryly.

            Victor flushed pink with rage and pointed to the door.

            “Out.”

            “Who’s going to support you? Connections, home, family, who’s going to do all that for you if you turn me away?”

            Yuri wanted to punch her in that moment. He wasn’t a violent person, he was too passive for even verbal confrontation, but he really wanted to punch that woman in the face for implying that, without her, Victor was and had no one and nothing.

            “Us,” Yuri said in shaking, but strong voice.

            “Them,” Victor agreed, pointing to Yuri and Yurio. “They will. Now get out.”

“They’ll leave you eventually—”

            “Leave.”

            For a minute Mrs. Nikiforov and Victor stared each other down like they were waiting for the other to give in. Yuri felt like he was standing in front of an untended bonfire, waiting for it to explode into a forest fire.

            “Fine,” Mrs. Nikiforov said, setting her teacup on the coffee table. She flounced to the doorway, where she paused and looked over her shoulder.

            “And, Victor, dear?” she said in a soft voice. “You’re going to regret this.”

            Then she smiled sweetly, and the door slammed shut, leaving the three men alone in an uncomfortable silence. 

 

~

 

            “You’re ridiculously good at this and it’s not fair,” Yurio complained, eyes glued to the TV screen.

            “You’re still winning,” Yuri pointed out.

            “You know, I’m surprised you stayed,” Yurio commented. “You got home from the hospital pretty recently and left to spend time with a friend who ditched you at said hospital.”

            “Actually, you _both_ ditched me,” Yuri corrected distractedly, thumbs flickering across his controller. “And, besides, I told my parents I might be awhile.”

            Victor grimaced at the reminder that both he and Yurio had literally abandoned Yuri at the hospital with his family. Oblivious to Victor’s distress, Yuri hissed and scrunched his nose in disproval as his vehicle on the screen crashed into a wall, hit another opponent, and spun out as he passed the finish line.

            “Why don’t you _both_ go home?” Victor wondered aloud as his car finally passed over the finish line and the score screen declared him to be in twelfth place. “Why do I always _lose?”_

            Yurio snickered at his friend’s misfortune and stretched across the floor comfortably.

            “It’s because you always pick Princess Peach, and everyone knows she sucks—”

            “Hey! You’re just jealous of her magical, pink, lady powers!” Victor said, righting himself as he glared at the TV. “This is bull, I totally deserved to win that.”

            “You weren’t even close. At least Yuri can complain, he made third because that turtle shell hit him. A turtle shell,” Yurio snorted. “American games are weird.”

            “Wait, I thought this game was Japanese—”

            “Yuri, you think everything good is Japanese.”

            “That’s because it is,” Yuri said with a shrug as he took a sip from the can of soda on his left, not even checking to see if it was his.

            It had to be a nice change for Yuri to be so comfortable that he didn’t care if he stole someone’s drink. He was used to living in a hospital where he had to ask before he went to the bathroom, and in a house where his bedroom door was removed. That had to be uncomfortable.

            “Hey, Victor’s sort of right. Shouldn’t you call your parents if you’re going to start living here?” Yurio asked.

            “Living here? I’ve only been here for like—”

            “Hours,” Yurio interjected. “You’ve been here for hours. I thought you were going to run off after Victor’s stupid mom left.”

            “I apologize if my existence is in some way irritating to you,” Yuri interrupted flatly. “Please bear with it as long as you can.”

            Yurio glanced over at him in bewildered confusion.

            “What? What are you talking about?”

            “Look,” Yuri started, turning his body to face Yurio. He was being bold, but the redness on his cheeks and the wideness of his eyes showed his discomfort for confrontation.

            “I know you don’t like me, but it kind of feels like this apartment is the only place for me to go and not be ignored or stalked by everyone. It’s like this is—.” Yuri said broke off with a sigh. “Just let me exist peacefully and quietly, and I won’t bother you.”

            Yurio’s character on the screen crashed off the edge of the road.

            “What…” Victor muttered in confusion.

            “If I go home, I have to deal with my parents fighting over me, Mari hiding from me, and the guests looking at me like I’m a lost, kicked puppy. Everyone acts like they’re expecting me to off myself every time I close a door—” Yuri sighed heavily, head in his hands. “Here is better. I won’t move in, I’m not crazy. I’ll just come when I’m welcome. That’s all.”

            “Don’t worry, Yuri, you’re welcome here. Nobody’s telling you to leave,” Victor said lightly, sending Yurio a pointed look.

            Yuri grinned weakly, and the room settled back into a comfortable silence.

            “I don’t _not_ like you,” Yurio spoke up, eyes still on the screen as he scanned through the options for the next race.

            “Yeah?” he asked uncertainly with a shy grin.

            “Yeah. But don’t tell anyone.”

            “I won’t.”

            “I just don’t like you like a… _best_ _friend_ , you know. Just an acquaintance,” Yurio clarified.

            Yuri’s grin wavered, but it whipped back into place when the doorbell rang. He skipped to the front door and praised the pizzaman for coming so quickly, completely oblivious to the death glare Victor was sending Yurio.

            “You’re a danged liar, little brother,” Victor whispered while Yuri was at the door.

            “I didn’t lie,” Yurio said with a glare. “I don’t hate him, and that’s the truth.”

            “That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Victor said shaking his head. “You care about him as much as I do.”

            “Actually, I don’t think anyone cares about him as much as you do,” Yurio grinned slyly.

            “What do you mean?” Victor asked.

            “You know,” Yurio said suggestively.

            “I really don’t. Sorry, I think I’m missing something.”

            Yurio’s smile dropped.

            “You have _got_ to be kidding me.”

            “What?”             

            “You can’t tell me that the bachelor of the Russian skating world has no idea that— Christ, I’m literally going to pitch myself off a cliff.”

            “Yurio!”

            “Too soon?” Yurio asked with a clear lack of concern.

            “It will always be too soon!”

            “Noted. Incorrrect, but noted.”

            “Just explain what it is that I’m missing,” Victor said exasperatedly.

            “You and Yuri, is what you’re missing.”

            “What about us?”

            “Are you seri— maybe, I don’t know, the fact that you’re in _love_ with him?”

            “Shut up!” Victor said loudly.

            “Victor?” Yuri appeared in the living room with a stack of pizza boxes and cocked his head.

            “Huh— wha?”

            “Is everything okay? I heard yelling.”

            “Ah, sorry about that. I need a soda,” Victor mumbled, skedaddling into the kitchen.

            He pulled a can of soda from the fridge and cracked it open, leaning against the counter to take a long drink and hopefully cool himself down. His eyes fell on the blue daisies sitting on the kitchen table. True love. New beginnings. Stupid flower. This is not what he needed at the moment.

            “Dear Lord, kill me now.”

            “Nah, maybe later,” a voice said.

            Victor started, turning to see Yuri coming into the kitchen.

            “What—” Victor’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat and started again, much to Yuri’s obvious amusement. “What are you doing in here?”

            “You looked a little sick or something when you came in here. Just wanted to check on you,” Yuri said kindly, opening the fridge

            “Ah— n-no, I’m okay, I’m not…” Victor trailed off, watching distractedly as Yuri bent down to grab a soda.

            “Victor? Are you okay?”

            Victor snapped back to attention.

            “What?” Victor blushed and glanced over to see Yurio leaning in the threshold of the kitchen giving him a sly smile.

            “Something catch your eye?” Yurio asked suggestively.

            “I was thinking.”

            “More like daydreaming,” Yurio scoffed.

            “ _Thinking_ ,” Victor stressed. “I got distracted.”

            “Sorry, Victor. Did I disturb you?” Yuri asked, looking guilty. “I can go—”

            “No!” Victor shouted. “Ah, sorry, I mean, you’re not bothering me. I didn’t mean that you had to leave, you know, when I said earlier that you guys should both go home. I was kidding.”

            “Thank you,” Yuri grinned shyly. “But I meant go to the other room, not go home.”

            Victor wanted to shoot himself.

            “But it’s really nice to see that you want me here.”

            “Yeah, if you leave, I’m stuck with _him_ ,” Victor said, jerking a thumb over to Yurio, making Yuri laugh

            “Okay, we should get into that pizza before it gets cold,” he said, heading back into the living room and leaving Victor and Yurio alone. Again.

            “So,” Yurio said, obviously expecting something.

            “What do you want?” Victor said flatly.

            “What were you thinking about?” Yurio asked with a teasing voice.

            “What do you mean?” Victor asked, knowing exactly what Yurio meant.

            “You know exactly what I mean.”

            “No, I don’t.”

            “I wouldn’t be playing games, if I were you.”

            “Oh, yeah?” Victor challenged, crossing his arms confidently. “And why is that?”

            “I have blackmail.” Yurio stated proudly.

            “Blackmail?”

            “Yeah. You admitted that you like Yuri.”

            “What are we, ten years old?” Victor scoffed weakly. “Besides, you can’t prove it.”

            “Yuri will trust me without needing evidence.”

            “What if I tell him it’s a lie?” Victor challenged again. “What will he do then? Say that _I’m_ lying? We’ve gone through a lot together. You’re just a schoolyard bully.”

            “I am not—!” Yurio started, but cut himself off. “Wait, am I really a schoolyard bully?”

            “No, you’re just… harsh. And you say what you think. And you think… harshly.”

            Yurio considered this for a moment and shrugged.

            “I can live with that. But I can still blackmail you. You do all sorts of dumb stuff. I have plenty of opportunities for blackmail.”

            “I may do dumb things, but that doesn’t mean I’m ashamed of it.”

            “Yuri! Victor said he loves—” Yuri cut off when he saw Victor. “Victor put down the knife.”

            “Stop trying to blackmail me,” Victor countered, holding the plastic knife firmly in his grip.

            “Victor, the knife!”

            “Promise you won’t blackmail me, and I’ll put it down!”

            “Victor, what’s going on in—” Yuri froze when he reached the doorway of the kitchen.

            “Don’t come any closer!” Victor demanded, waving a plastic knife at Yurio, who was backed against the fridge. “And get off the fridge, Yurio, you’ll get smudges all over it!”

            Yurio muttered an apology and did what he was told.

            “Victor, what—” Yuri thought for a second. “Yurio, what did you do?”

            “Me? I didn’t do anything!” Yurio exclaimed, sounding offended.

            “I don’t believe you.”

            “I’m not sorry!” Yurio said boldly before leaping back when Victor jabbed the plastic knife in his direction.

            “Victor, put down the knife.” Yuri demanded.

            “No!”

            “Vi—”

            “Not until he promises not to blackmail me!”

            “Yurio, why are you blackmailing Victor?” Yuri asked, rubbing his forehead.

            “I just wanted to know what he was thinking about that got him all blushy and flustered,” Yurio sounded as if he believed this was a reasonable request.

            “And it’s private, so he didn’t tell you?”

            “Yeah, so I’m blackmailing him.”

            “What are you blackmailing him with?”

            “The fact that he loves—”

            “Don’t say it!” Victor interrupted, lunging closer.

            “Look, I get that you grew up being oppressed by society and neglected by your own useless mother and you’re probably terrified of love because you never got any and were always told it was wrong or whatever, but you have to figure it out eventually, so you might as well do it now!” Yurio exclaimed as he backed into the fridge again.

            “That stuff isn’t any of your business,” Victor hissed, face heating with embarrassment.

            “For Christ’s sake, someone just tell me,” Yuri demanded.

            “Victor’s in love with you!” Yurio shouted.

            “Don’t believe him!” Victor had practically shrieked at the same time.

            “Wait, what?” Yuri asked like he thought he misheard. “Is that true?”

            Victor saw the confusion and what could possibly be fear on Yuri’s face and was reminded of his mother. The looks of confusion and disgust. Her jerking him by the elbow away from a rack of sparkly blue jackets he gazed adoringly at in the mall. Her slapping him when she guessed that he was dating the guy he walked to school with. Her screaming at him for dancing and skating and singing and doing other things that “boys aren’t supposed to do.”

            “Of course not.” Victor heard himself snapping.

            Both Yuri and Yurio watched Victor with wide eyes.

            “What?” Yuri asked, face and voice suddenly blank.

            “Why would I want someone like _you?”_ Victor added, heart sinking and throat tightening. Words kept falling out of his mouth and they were all coming out wrong.

            “Victor,” Yurio said warningly.

            “Someone like you who will do anything to get attention— I mean, jumping off a cliff? Really, Yuri?”

            “Victor, seriously,” Yurio tried again.

            Yuri was hovering by the doorway, trembling and looking ready to make an escape.

            “I can’t believe you thought I’d like a _guy_ ,” Victor laughed bitterly. “I’m not like you. I’m not twisted and—” Victor found himself shoved into the fridge by a furious Yurio. His lost his balance and plopped to the floor.

            “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I swear to God if you say that crap in front of Yuri, I will make you regret it,” Yurio said in a cool voice.

            He was standing above Victor, looking righteous and furious and protective. Yuri still stood in the threshold of the room, breath hitching, and eyes lost. And just like that, the fire was knocked out of Victor.

            This happened sometimes. The line between Victor and the boy his mother raised would get so hazy, he couldn’t tell which was which. And he was just so frantic to not let Yuri know. When he panicked, sometimes he just lost it.

            “Yu… I… I didn’t mean…”

            “I should go,” Yuri said softly, with a broken smile as he backed away from the kitchen.

            Victor began to get up and opened his mouth to protest, but Yurio hissed at him and pushed him back down by the shoulder. He stayed down.

            “No, I just, I don’t—”

            “I know you didn’t mean it,” Yuri said with a brave face.

            Despite the tone, Victor couldn’t help but feel warm relief flood his chest.

            “But— but sometimes I-I think you keep things, like… like stress and bad memories and opinions, you keep it quiet and e-eventually it bursts and comes rushing out and you say more than you mean to.”

            Victor’s eyes widened at the misunderstanding.

            “Wha— no, no I didn’t mean any—”

            “Victor, you don’t have to be nice about it. I get it,” Yuri smiled tightly. “I think I should go.” He disappeared down the hall that lead to the front door.

            “Victor, stay here before you screw anything else up, you useless moron,” Yurio ordered.

            He then powerwalked down the hall to find Yuri, while Victor leaned back against the fridge, listening to the sounds of a high, hysterical voice and a deeper, calmer one. Then the slam of a door.


	13. Running

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> I’m BAAAAAACCCKCKCKCKCKC  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri!!! On Ice  
> I have an OC that Yuri uses they/them pronouns for because he doesn’t know their gender and is too afraid to ask because he’s a precious bean, so I hope that’s not confusing for anyone,

CH 13— Running

 

            “You really screwed up,” Yurio announced as he padded into the living room.

            Victor was moping on the fluffy rug, half wedged under the coffee table and mostly covered by a heavy blanket. He managed to drag himself that far from the kitchen but hadn’t willed himself to get to his bedroom, yet.

            “You have to fix this, Yuri said unhelpfully.

            Yurio stood over Victor, who lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. Then Yurio disappeared for a few seconds from Victor’s line of vision, and came back with a slice of pizza that he dangled over his friend’s face.

            “What are you gonna do?” Yurio asked, taking a bite of a slice in his other hand.

            Victor accepted his slice and began eating it, not bothering to sit up.

            “I have no idea,” he muttered around a mouthful of pizza that felt oddly heavy and oily. His stomach rolled.

            “How come you didn’t catch him?” Victor asked, remembering that Yurio had gone after Yuri when he left.

            “With all the time he’s been at hospital, you’d think he’d have zero stamina, but he has plenty,” Yurio said, sitting down next to Victor’s head.

            “I didn’t mean to,” Victor blurted out.

            “I know. You can’t help that you’re an idiot.”

            Victor didn’t rise to the bait, but rolled over a bit, just far enough to see Yurio’s face.

            “Do you think….” Victor trailed off, eyes casting downward. He almost rolled away from Yurio, but a hand grabbed his shoulder.

            “He’ll forgive you. He always does, and he always will.”

            “No, old Yuri always did. But this Yuri….”

            “He’s not that different, you know. Just talk to him. Tell him how you’re not trying to be a jerk, and that you’re really just scared,” Yurio advised around a mouth full of pizza.

            He picked up the remote and began flipping through channels with greasy fingers that left smudges behind on everything they touched.

            “And what’s the worst that could happen? He can’t forgive you right now? Don’t freak, he’ll come around.”

            Victor was appalled with how nonchalant Yurio was. Lately Yurio and Yuri had been getting much closer, Yurio going as far as trying to protect Yuri from bullies like Victor’s mother. And yet he was eating pizza and watching reality TV with the man who literally broke Yuri’s heart.

            “He won’t forgive me,” Victor said with a pout. “I just know it. I said some awful things and I just—”

            “You think I haven’t said awful things to him? You think Mari or his parents haven’t?” Yurio pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Look. I know you’re all emotionally screwed because of Mommy-dearest but come on. Get a grip. That kid is the most understanding, accepting, _loving_ human being either of us know. How can he not forgive you?”

            Victor scratched at the side of his thumbnail, very aware that Yurio was watching him out of the corner of his eye.

            “Should I go after him?” Victor asked uncertainly.

            “I don’t know. Maybe we should give him space?”

            “Last time we gave him space…”

            “He fell off a cliff. Right,” Yurio sighed. “You’re both going to be the death of me.”

            “Sorry.”

            “No, you’re not. Let’s go find your boyfriend.” Yurio stood, folding his pizza into a taco and shoving it in his mouth.

            “Not my boyfriend.”  

            “Right,” Yurio muttered. “Get up, I don’t want to have to drag you.”

            Victor groaned and pulled himself to his feet, fixing Yurio with a glare. He sulked to the front door, slipping into a long black coat and grabbed a spare parka vest from the rack. He tossed to Yurio, who caught it with his face.

            “Hey! That zipper could’ve blinded me,” Yurio complained as he pulled the vest on.

            “Did Yuri bring a coat?” Victor asked distractedly.

            Yurio glanced up at him as he struggled with his zipper.

            “I don’t think so— stupid zipper, do your job!” he bit out, jerking the zipper on his parka.

            Victor, who was already in the hallway outside of his rooms, sniggered behind his hand.

            “Come here, I’ll help you.” Victor pocketed his room key and pulled off the leather gloves he had just slid on.

            Yurio mumbled a weak “thanks” and shuffled into the hallway, looking everywhere but Victor, who knelt in front of him and began working the zipper. At that moment, the room door next to Victor’s opened and out popped a tall, older man with a kind face. He held a sleek black cane in one hand and was situating the collar of his sharp looking jacket with the other.

            “Father and son going out? Have a good evening,” the man said with a smile before heading down the hall.

            Victor and Yurio met each other’s eyes with a bit of confusion and bit of mortification.

            “No way do I look old enough to be your father,” Victor said, feeling his face for wrinkles anyways.

            “He thought I was related to you by blood,” Yurio gagged.

            Meanwhile, the older man walking down the hall began whistling cheerily, tipping his hat to a cleaning lady, who giggled in response. Yurio and Victor watched him go with slight disgust.

            “Let’s go find Yuri.” Victor said, quickly moving down the hall.

 

~

 

            Yuri was running at night in the cold of winter with only a sweater and a pair of thin jeans to keep out the chill. To say he was freezing was an understatement. Also, it was raining.

            He was racing down a bridge that passed over still waters. The only sounds beside the slap of his sneakers on wet pavement were the purring engines of cars zipping by. Streetlamps popped on and drowned out the delicate starlight, and he found himself getting strange looks from the people he ran past. They looked like they were curious about him, maybe about what he was running from. He didn’t know what he’d tell them if they asked.

            He was running away from everything. From words that made his chest ache, from the people that said them, from shadows that didn’t belong to him, fears he didn’t know he had, all while being chased by an insecurity that ran deeper than the ocean. He ran away from someone he thought would never chase him off.

            Yuri finally came to a stop at the entrance of an alley that smelled like rancid garbage, probably because of the colourfully stained bin that was situated between two tall buildings that made up the walls of the alley.

              The rain picked up and dark asphalt shone in the light from streetlamps and cars. Reflections sprawling across the ground were muddled and murky, like an impressionist painting. It made the trash-lined road that smelled of car exhaust look like a work of art.

            Yuri ducked into the alley, away from the cars’ bright lights and the rubbernecking drivers who were probably wondering why an underdressed kid was standing in the freezing, pouring rain.

            The alleyway was surprisingly clean. The smelly garbage bin was shut tight and there weren’t any dead animals or bits of trash strewn around. And that’s why Yuri had no problem sinking to the ground on the side of the garbage bin that blocked his view of the road. He pulled his knees to his chest and buried his burning face in them. He swallowed hard.  
            This is great; hiding in an alley next to a garbage bin that smelled like fish and death, pitying himself and feeling hurt about a bunch of words someone said.  Not too long ago, everything was fine. He was fine, Victor was fine— the world was fine. He had some issues, sure, but they were manageable. But this wasn’t manageable. Yuri could handle feelings and cliffs and hospitals. He could handle loss and suffering and nurses. He could not, however, handle Victor.

            Victor and his “I don’t have time for people like you.” Victor and his “you’ll do anything for attention.” Victor and his “how in the world could you ever think that I’d love _you?”_

            Freaking Victor and his pretty smiles and shiny eyes and soft hair. Stupid Victor and his gracefulness and charisma and adorableness. And his obnoxious, stupid, dumb hugs.

            Yuri had escaped misery and was now pretty well off in straight up pissed. What was Victor’s problem? Did he have a problem with people with scars? Did he have a problem with people who weren’t perfect? Did he have a problem with people who weren’t beautiful or just like him?

            “Well, sorry for not being as perfect and flawless as the gift to humanity, Victor,” Yuri muttered, glaring at the brick wall ahead of him. Stupid Victor. Causing all these _feelings_.

            All these frustrating feelings of wanting to be accepted and good enough. To be talented and attractive enough. Everybody wanted to be enough for somebody. It was human nature. And that’s what enraged Yuri the most. The fact that, despite being yelled at, insulted, and pushed aside, Yuri still wanted to please. It wasn’t fair. It was like his pleasure was also his poison.

            Yuri sighed and listened to the rain. It was rhythmic, hitting the metal garbage bin and pattering like footsteps on the buildings Yuri was crouched between. He wondered if anyone really honestly enjoyed the rain like he did or if they didn’t like how it wasn’t cheery enough, or convenient enough, or— Yuri sighed. Everyone liked the sun. Nobody wanted the rain.

            Yuri glanced up and rain dotted on the lenses of his glasses. His hair was plastered to his head with rainwater and his clothes were so drenched, they stuck uncomfortably to his skin. Rain was clingy. Even after you went inside, it stuck to you for hours, unless you put everything in the dryer to suck the rain off.

            Shivering, Yuri squinted at something above him that flapped in the wind. Stretched across the alleyway was a clothesline strung with sweatpants, sweaters and brightly patterned socks dangling limply in the air, slowly getting wetter as the rain picked up. Yuri felt bad for the owner of the clothes. They went through all that work to clean their clothes and string them to dry, only for them to be rained on.

            Yuri folded his arms over his knees, hugging them closer to his chest. He sighed and buried his face in his arms, the slight chill from the cooling air running up his spine. He picked the worst day to run.

            “Oh, my Go— are you kidding me?” a loud voice called from above Yuri’s head. “They were almost dry, this is ridiculous.”

            Yuri’s head jerked up to follow the voice. Leaning out the second story window of the taller building was a person with messy curls and an anger problem. They started cursing at their clothing for getting wet, until they looked down and saw Yuri.

            “Hey, you! Down there looking like bad breakup song! Get up here and help me with this,” the person in the window demanded.

            “Wha… me?” Yuri asked uncertainly, staggering to his feet.

            “Unless you see some other idiot hanging out in an alleyway in the middle of a rainstorm,” the person said before ducking back inside. After a second they popped back out with a colourful, plastic basket.

            “Catch!” they shouted, dropping the basket out the window.

            Of course, Yuri didn’t catch. Yuri ducked out of the way as the basket crashed to the ground, and quickly grabbed it before it started filling with rainwater.

            “I’ll man the rope; you grab the clothes. Use the fire escape to get up there,” the person pointed to the building Yuri had been leaning back against.

            He glanced up to see a tall set of metal stairs reaching up to the top of the building.

            “Didn’t notice that before,” Yuri muttered distractedly to himself. Then he noticed that the bottom part of the fire escape didn’t reach the ground. A good few feet of ladder was missing. “Um…”

              “Drag the dumpster over and use it to reach the stairs,” the person in the window ordered.

            Yuri let out a breath and shook his head. Might as well make himself useful, instead bumming around crying in someone’s alley. Yuri set the basket on top of the garbage bin, using both hands and his shoulder to nudge it closer to the stairs. He eyed the monstrous thing up and down, wondering how to climb it.

              “Use the stickie-outies on the side to get up. See them?” came the helpful suggestion.

            Yuri searched the bin for “stickie-outies” and found odd knobs that looked like they had been sloppily welded to the side of the dumpster. He set a foot up on the first knob and tested his weight against it. When it didn’t pop off, he stepped up on it and threw his other leg over to rest on the top of the bin. In an awkward split, Yuri frantically bear-hugged the bin to keep from sliding off.

            “Roll over. Like, jerk to the side a little,” the person in the window suggested, miming a full body jerk that sent them slamming into the window frame.

            Having not been led wrong by his new friend yet, Yuri did as he was told and rolled over, throwing himself sideways. Sure enough, his whole body made it onto the top of the garbage bin in one piece.

            “That took way more effort than it should have,” Yuri groaned, getting on his hands and knees.

            “At least you got on it. I fell off the first few tries,” the person called down encouragingly.

            Yuri scooped up the basket, tucked it under his arm and began climbing the fire escape with one hand.

            “You know, it’s kind of weird to be going up something that’s called an ‘escape’,” he remarked.

            “Fire escapes are the best way in anywhere.”

            Yuri shook his head, grinning at the answer. Relief flooded through him when he reached the top of the stairs. He groaned and arched to pop his back before turning to see the view.

            Yuri could see _everything_. The stars glittered like diamonds against a dark sky that seemed to go on forever. The city glowed in the background like magic, and the rain that caught in the lights looked like jewels falling from the sky.

            “Pretty neat, huh?”

            Yuri glanced back at his new friend. He really couldn’t place the person as “him” or “her.” They had curly hair, almond-shaped eyes, a dark tan and a baggy tank top that looked like a watercolor sunset. At the risk of being offensive, Yuri kept his questions to himself.

            “So, you gonna help me, or what?” the person’s voice snapped Yuri out of his thinking.

            “Oh, yeah, sorry.”

            “Grab the clothes when the get to you and bring the basket to the door for me,” the person demanded, pulling the thick, aged rope.

            The clothes on the line jerkily twitched towards Yuri, who quickly reached up to accept the first drenched article of clothing in his care.

            “You’ve got nice taste.” Yuri admitted, grinning as he placed a sweater in the basket.

            “I love shirts that insult people who are too stupid to understand the insults.”

            “You remind me of my friend,” Yuri said with a tight smile. “He likes insulting people, too.”

            “It’d be great to finally meet someone in this place who gets sarcasm. Everybody I’ve met so far is nice and patient, it’s almost sickening.” The person wrinkled their nose. “Where I come from, we don’t do that.”

            “Where are you from?” Yuri asked, honestly curious.

            “America, the beautiful.”

            “I figured.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?” the person across the alley bristled.

            “I didn’t mean anything bad, I can just tell by your accent,” Yuri said quickly waved his hands around in a frantic apology, unsure of how to fix things. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you!”

            “Chill, it’s fine, I just thought you were one of those people who’re all ‘Americans are stupid and loud and blah, blah, blah’,” the person laughed easily.

            “Well, you are loud,” Yuri admitted.

            The person stuck their tongue out and Yuri continued to grab and stack, grab and stack, until the last piece of clothing, a single neon sock, was in the basket. Then he climbed down the fire escape, carefully but quickly. It was freezing out and he was soaked to the bone.

            Yuri hopped down from the last step, splashing into a puddle that hadn’t been there when he first climbed up the fire escape.

            “Oops,” he muttered, feeling the icy water on his numbing skin.

            He shrugged and walked out of the alleyway, heading up the steps of the house he gathered the clothes for. He held the basket against his hip with one hand and fumbled numbly with the bulky doorknob with the other.

            The ancient wooden door creaked open and Yuri was greeted by lukewarm air filled with the odd aroma of cookies and potting soil. The lighting was dim, and the wallpaper was yellow with small orange flowers dotting in straight columns.

            Heavy footsteps thudded to the left and Yuri looked over to see a flight of stairs with picture frames spread along the wall. The pictures were crammed so close that all the frames were touching.

            “Ah, Christ! You’re soaked through!” the person from the window exclaimed from the top step. The looked much shorter and younger up close.

            “Ah, yeah. The rain picked up. Here’s your basket,” Yuri said, holding it up.

            The kid took the stairs two at a time, nearly slipping on bits of carpet and cloth that were strewn haphazardly across some of the steps, probably to protect the wood from heavy footed kids. The kid jumped down the last three steps, landing loudly in front of Yuri.

            “Thanks a bunch, you really helped me out! I would’ve called up Kusu, but she’s at work so you were saddled with the job.”

            “Oh. It’s not a problem, I don’t mind!” Yuri said sincerely, turning to leave.

            “Hey, I have to ask,” the person said, placing the basket on their cocked hip. “What’s a guy like you doing out on the streets in the rain?”

            “A guy like me?”

            “No offense, but you don’t exactly look like someone who grew up anywhere near here.”

            Footsteps pounded on the floor above them hard enough to shake the light fixtures and interrupt Yuri’s train in thought.

            “Sorry. That’s probably my brother, he’s pretty loud sometimes,” the kid said, pursing their lips as they stared up at the ceiling.

            “I-it’s fine. It’s pretty loud where I live, sometimes, too.”

            “Where are you from?”

            “I live a town over. I don’t get out much, so that’s probably why I don’t look like I belong here,” Yuri said bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck.

            “Hm. Well, you should get out more often. I mean, this place may not be the ritz, or anything, but it’s a nice place to hang out.”

            “I— yeah, I’ll keep that in mind,” Yuri said. “I’ll be going, now.”

            “Cool, don’t drown in all that rain,” the kid said as they headed up the stairs.

            Yuri watched them go and swallowed around a lump in his throat, shivering from the cool air seeping through the windows. He turned to leave, walking past a choking radiator and colourful bowls conveniently placed to catch dripping water from the ceiling.

            The door groaned in protest when he pulled it open, and closing it took a little doorknob jiggling and shoving, which made flecks of paint shave off onto Yuri’s sweater. He grimaced as he stepped back into the rain. With thoughts swirling in his head, Yuri walked mindlessly, not paying attention to where he was going. This led to him finding himself at the edge of the city, standing at the bottom of a hill below a dense forest and having no idea where he was.

            Yuri sighed, more tired than terrified, and more than confused about why he wasn’t so terrified. Getting lost was in the top 20 of his list of worst fears. He should be freaking out. He was going to have to ask someone for directions, which should also be freaking him out. Maybe he was getting sick. He _was_ standing in the cold rain without a jacket, so that was likely.

            “Excuse me?” came a high voice.

            Yuri looked to the left to see a blonde girl who looked a bit older than him carrying a pink backpack looking up at him with concern.

            “Are you okay? Are you lost?” she asked kindly.

            “Oh. Um. Yeah, I’m pretty lost. I kind of just… started walking without looking where I was going. And, now I’m… now I’m here,” Yuri explained lamely, hands going into his pockets self-consciously.

            “Happens to the best of us,” the girl joked. “I’m Kusu. You want to come to my place so I can drop my bag off and then take you home?”

            “Tha— Kusu?” Yuri asked.

            “Yeah, weird name, I know.”

            “No, it’s not that, it’s just… I think I know a friend of yours,” Yuri said before shaking the thought away. “Anyways, I’m Yuri, and getting indoors would be really great. Thanks.”

            Where was his fear of new people? Where was his panic for having to talk to new people? Where were his nerves about going to someone’s house for the first time?

            “Follow me,” Kusu said, starting up the hill.

            “Oh, your house is this way?” Yuri asked as he followed towards the forest.

            It was weird that someone would live at the edge of a city behind a forest, but maybe Kusu was just rich. Rich people tended to live on opposite sides of thick forests than cities to avoid noise and light pollution. She must live in a fancy development up there somewhere.

            “Yeah— well, it’s not really mine. I mean, I live there, but I don’t own it.”

            “You live with your parents?”

            “No, I’m a squatter,” she said casually. “I’m living in an abandoned building.”

            Yuri waited for her to laugh for a minute before realizing it wasn’t a rich people joke.

            “Oh. So, you’re…”

            “Homeless.” Kusu grinned and cocked her head. “You can say it, you know. It’s just a word.”

            “Of course. Sorry.”

            “Don’t worry about it. Most people think it’s like an insult, but it’s how I live, and I live just fine,” Kusu said with a grin. “You do what you have to do.”

            Yuri nodded, gazing up at the impressive canopy of tree limbs above them as they stepped into the forest. The tall, thick trees towering over them completely blocked out the light from the city and even most of the starlight. Without the light, the snow was just a plain white and didn’t sparkle, which felt very wrong.

            Eventually the two came up to a small shack that didn’t really look that abandoned to Yuri. Potted evergreens stood on either side of the door, there was a handrail for the crumbling concrete steps, and a yellow welcome mat sat in front of the door, under a faded awning.

            “Home, sweet home,” Kusu said when she pushed the door open.

            Inside was surprisingly homey. Mismatched teacups and mugs sat on piles of books that were stacked on thick tarps to protect from puddles of rainwater seeping up from the ground below it. A table made from overturned plastic buckets and long strips of painted plywood sat against the wall holding candles and lanterns that Kusu began to light.

            “Now let’s get you something dry to wear,” Kusu said as she dropped her backpack on a mattress that sat on a dark green tarp on the floor.

            Kusu skipped across the room and crouched to the floor between in front of a long plastic container. Pulling a few potted flowers off the lid, Kusu opened the container and began rummaging around inside. Curious, Yuri came closer, walking past a three-legged vanity with a cracked mirror and a metal bucket collecting drips from the water-stained ceiling.

            “So, how do you… how do you get… things?” Yuri asked awkwardly.

            “Begging, stealing, working under the table,” Kusu explained. “It’s hard to get a job when you don’t have an address to put on an application. I may have a home, but I don’t technically have an address.”

            “That… sucks,” Yuri said lamely, staring down at his feet.

            “Yeah, but that’s life. What can you do?” Kusu said, jumping up with a baby blue sweater in her hands.

            She turned around and displayed it to Yuri like a showgirl on a game show. The sweater had the word “Queen” written in silvery cursive with a crown doodle. Yuri glared when Kusu started cackling.

            “What’s with the face? Is it not your style, champ?”

            Yuri grumbled under his breath as he stripped off his soaked sweater, grimacing when it clung wetly to his skin. Kusu tossed the new sweater to him and he pulled it on, reluctantly enjoying the warmth of the soft fabric.

            “Are you sure it’s okay for me to take this?”

            “It’ll be a bit more tragic if you die from pneumonia than if I lose a sweater,” Kusu said with a snort.

            There was a loud knock on the door that rattled the old wood on its frame.

            “Wha— who’s that?” Yuri asked, jumping out of his skin.

            Kusu quickly blew out the candles she had just lit and pulled her thin curtains closed before turning back to Yuri.

            “Stay quiet and get in that corner so whoever’s at the door can’t see you,” she demanded.

            “What’s going on?”

            “Get in the corner.”

            “Why?”

            “Because I’m a homeless girl hanging out with stolen stuff in a shack in the middle of the woods that I don’t own. Good rarely comes from a knock on the door. Now, get in the corner.”

            Yuri did as he was told, pressing his body into the cold, dusty corner at the far end of the little room. Kusu cracked the door, peeking at their visitor. Her body relaxed instantly.

            “Theo, you literal—”

            “Sorry, sorry,” came a soft, sheepish voice at the door. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Just wanted you to know that Luco’s has an open shift and they’re paying double in cash, no questions asked.”

            “You’re a _dream_ , Theo,” Kusu said, relief radiating from her voice. “Oh, I almost forgot about Yuri!”

            “Yuri?”

            “Ran into him on my way home. He’s lost” Kusu explained, opening the door farther. “Yuri, this is my friend Theo. I have to go to work, so he’s going to walk you home, okay?”

            “Wait, what?” Yuri spluttered, eyeing the newer stranger uncomfortably.

            “Nice to meet you,” Theo said with a kind smile, long hair bouncing at his shoulder. “Don’t look so scared, I promise I’m not going to hurt you.”

            “I know that, I wasn’t implying…” Yuri’s face heated with embarrassment as he came out of the corner and hedged up to the door, still staying behind Kusu.

            “I don’t think your new friend trusts me,” Theo said, mirth in his tone.

            “Yuri doesn’t like strangers,” Kusu explained, grabbing her backpack off the bed and heading out the door. “Don’t worry, Yu, Theo will keep you safe. Now you boys behave, okay? It was nice meeting you, Yuri!”

            And with that, the woman Yuri had known for all of five minutes disappeared through the trees. Yuri felt his heart sink as he realized he was alone with this very tall, lightly tattooed man that he did not know.

            “So, where do you live?” Theo asked, still standing outside under the awning.

            “The, um, the town over,” Yuri stuttered. “But you don’t have to walk me, I-I can get there myself.”

            “The forest is really thick and can get pretty confusing at night. You should let me come with you. I mean, unless you want to get lost and eaten by a wolf…” Theo trailed off with a shrug, already heading towards the tree line.

            “O-okay, fine. You can walk me to the city, but then I can get home by myself,” Yuri amended. He was more likely to be attacked by an animal or lost in the woods at night than he was to be attacked by someone Kusu trusted, right?

            Yuri jogged to catch up with Theo but stayed a few steps behind him. His heart was oddly heavy as he left the dark little shack. It could’ve been very unwelcoming, but the little blue curtains, the potted plants, the candles— there were clear touches to make the space homier and personalized. Still, to think that a girl not much older than Yuri lived alone in that dark, leaky, drafty building…

            Tearing his heart from the situation, Yuri faced ahead. Now that he was passing through for a second time, Yuri was actually able to notice how nice the forest really was. He kept getting distracted by the size of some of the trees and stars that peeked through the canopy when he was supposed to be staying alert of wolves and Theo.

            “So, what brings you to my and Kusu’s side of town?” Theo asked from ahead.

            “I was… in the area and got lost. I must’ve looked pretty scared because Kusu offered to help me home.”

            “Yeah, that sounds like Kusu,” Theo said fondly. “She’s a real sweetheart, huh?”

            “Yeah. I just wish…” Yuri sighed. “I don’t know.”

            “You wish she had it easier, huh? A home of her own, a good paying job, a family to support her,” Theo guessed, holding a tree limb out of the way for Yuri to duck under.

            “Thanks. And, yeah, but she still seems so… happy. Without all that stuff.”

            “Some people are good at making the best of their situation. And some people just don’t know any better.”

            The pair remained silent until they reached the edge of the woods. Being at the top of the steep hill overlooking the city made it all seem so small and lively and warm.

            “I can take it from here,” Yuri said, stepping sideways away from Theo.

            Theo sighed. Yurio eyed him suspiciously, wondering if the “well-meaning stranger” thing was just an act to get him to let down his guard, so he’d be less likely to defend himself from an attack. Little did Theo know that Yuri had no way of defending himself in the first place.

            “Look, I know you don’t know me well, and you don’t trust me,” Theo said seriously, snapping Yuri out of his thoughts. “But you don’t know the city well. You got lost, right? That’s how Kusu found you?”

            “I mean, yes, I did get lost. But—”

            “And there’s also safety. Cities aren’t kind at night.”

            “I know that,” Yuri said frustratedly. “I’m not stupid.”

            “If you knew that, then you wouldn’t be telling me you can get home on your own. I’m not leaving you,” Theo said firmly. “You’ll just get yourself hurt, and Kusu will get upset.”

            Yuri considered this.

            “You really like her, huh?” he asked softly.

            “I like people,” Theo said with a shrug. “What I _don’t_ like is seeing them hurt. Especially if it’s because they were stupid and didn’t accept someone’s offer to protect them.”

            Yuri thought for a moment. Theo had gotten him through the woods without either of them being eaten or attacked or lost, and he hadn’t tried to do anything sketchy, so far. The forest would’ve been the easiest place to try something because there would be no witnesses.

            “Okay,” Yuri finally relented.

            “Really?”

            “Yeah, you can walk me home.”

            “A high honour,” Theo said with a light tone.

            Yuri snorted when Theo offered his hand, but he took it nonetheless and entered the city, annoyed but also relieved that he felt a bit safer. The lights were blinding and Yuri’s eyes watered, too used to the darkness of the forest. It was also much louder. Instead of gentle cicada songs, owl hoots, and leaf whispers, there was a cacophony of chatter and engine growling. A sudden shout and a loud beep had Yuri startling so hard, he smacked into another person on the sidewalk.

            “Don’t freak out, it was just a horn,” Theo said, squeezing Yuri’s hand.

            Yuri felt the irrational urge to cry. He was tired and stressed, his skin itched, his eyes ached— he just wanted to go home, and he wanted Victor. Theo reminded him of Victor so much with his kind eyes and offer of protection that it hurt. Yuri’s breath caught in his throat and he sighed shakily.

            “Breath, kid, it’s okay,” Theo said warmly, eyeing him closely.

            Yuri nodded stiffly and clenched his jaw, allowing himself to be dragged through crowds, across streets, and past a familiar alleyway. In seconds flat, they were at the bridge that brought Yuri to the city.

            “This is as far as I take you,” Theo said, using his grip on Yuri’s hand to pull him closer. “Don’t go doing anything stupid, okay? Running through the woods or a city by yourself at night could get you into trouble. Don’t be dumb.”

            “I know, I know, I just…”

            “You just needed to get away, huh?” Theo smiled understandingly, letting go of his hand.

            Yuri blushed, having forgotten they were holding hands in the first place. He shivered when the warmth between his and Theo’s palms dissipated once the cold air touched his skin.

            “Thanks for helping me,” Yuri said. “Even if I was a little difficult about it.”

            “Don’t worry about it. A friend of Kusu’s is a friend of mine,” Theo said with a warm smile before his expression sobered. “Hey, Yuri?”

            “Yeah?”

            “This may be too personal to ask, but were you running from someone? When you came to this city, I mean. Are you trying to get away from someone who’s hurting you?”

            Yuri blinked in surprise. He hadn’t been very considerate or easy to deal with for Theo, and, yet, he was not only carrying through with getting Yuri to point B safely, but he was going out of his way to try to protect and help him.

            “No,” Yuri said when he realized he’d been silent for too long. “No, I just… I got in a stupid fight with a friend. That’s all. I was too sensitive to something he said, and I blew up. Knowing him, he’s probably waiting up for me as we speak. I should really get back to him.”

            “Okay,” Theo said with a nod. “But if you ever need a place to stay, if he ever hurts you again, there’s people in this city who will protect you. We got your back, Yuri.”

            The way Theo said it made it sound like a promise.

            “Thank you,” Yuri said seriously. “Thank you.”

            Theo grinned and ruffled Yuri’s hair before putting his hands in the pockets of his holey jeans and strolling back down the road.


	14. Fool Me Twice, Shame on Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> This is edited.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri!!! On Ice  
> Get them tissues ready and be prepared to either squeal, bawl or both because, as per usual, this can’t end happily, now can it? This is me we’re talking about, people.  
> On with the sobfest!

Ch 14— Fool Me Twice, Shame on Me

            Real friendship is hunting down your best friend on the streets at one in the morning in the freezing rain. Victor was cold, he was tired, and he was upset. He had sent Yurio home hours ago, which didn’t go well.

            “I want to help,” Yurio said firmly. “You can’t just send me away and decide what I do.”

            Victor pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

            “It’s not safe out here and I don’t want to have to worry about you—”

            “So, you think I can’t handle myself? You think ‘poor little Yurio, he’s just a kid. He needs someone to protect him.’ That’s stupid!” Yurio shouted, face screwed up into an angry snarl. “The person you’re _supposed_ to protect is out there being kidnapped or murdered because you’re an idiot! So, thank God I don’t actually need your _protection!”_

            “Yurio, this is ridiculous. Just go home. It’s pointless for two people to be looking in the same places for one person, anyways.”

            After a bit more arguing and a few empty threats, Yurio caved. He stormed off with righteous anger to their home where he would be warm and safe, allowing Victor to focus and keep roaming the city for Yuri.

            His calls to Yuri went to voicemail, his texts went unanswered. Victor tried to comfort himself with the fact that Yuri was always losing his phone and that he was probably safe at home, completely unaware that Victor was trying to reach him, but his mind worked overtime to conjure up worst-case scenarios. It gave him a headache to add on top of the tress and exhaustion from searching. Their town seemed to be much bigger, now that Victor was alone in it and Yuri was missing in it.

            Icy fear gripped Victor’s heart. He felt the irrational need to sob well up painfully in his chest.

            Yuri had left once, and that turned out horribly. What if it was happening all over again? What if Yuri was in danger, or hurt? Maybe he’d been run over, or kidnapped, or assaulted—  

            Oh, God.

            “Breath, stupid, breath,” Victor told himself, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his fists.

            He felt a painful, startling loss that he didn’t even know what to do with. It was like something had been ripped away. He tried to shake it off, blame it on nerves, claim his imagination was just spinning out of control, that he was overreacting. He convinced himself that he was just tired and a little overstressed, probably hadn’t eaten enough that day. But he knew what it was.

            Victor skidded to a halt. His light jog had progressed into a sprint as quicksilver thoughts whizzed faster and faster through his mind, but his energy suddenly felt zapped. He felt like he ran into a wall.

            “Get it together, Vitya,” Victor muttered to himself, dragging cold hands down his weary face.

            He had looked everywhere. At the hot springs, and the rink, and Yuri’s favourite restaurants. He even did a quick scope through the woods where Yuri’s accident happened, the park, a few stores, the library, and even some of their friends’ homes.

            Maybe part of the problem was that Yuri knew that Victor knew him well. He knew where Victor would look, so he was probably somewhere that Victor wouldn’t think to look. Victor sighed. It was useless, running around in circles, checking the same places over and over again. He had to think. Where had he not checked? Where would Yuri not think he’d ever go?  

            The graveyard, the schools, the local temples. Victor’s other option was to check every block individually, but that would take hours.

            “Focus, Victor,” he commanded. He shook his head and watched his breath crystalize in the air.

            It was really cold. Yuri always got colder quicker than Victor, so he was probably freezing by now. Plus, Yuri didn’t even bring a coat. He must be _literally_ freezing. Victor started running.

 

~

 

            Yuri was freaking cold.

            Like…. _really_ freaking cold.

            He had a new, dry sweater, which was great, but carrying his wet clothing was quickly chilling him to the bone, making his whole body shiver.

            “God, I picked the best night to do this, didn’t I?” Yuri complained to himself, embarrassed with his childish escape earlier. What kind of grown adult runs away when someone hurts his feelings? Real mature, Yuri. Real mature.

            Yuri shook his head. Complaints and regret would get him nowhere. What he needed to do was keep moving in the direction of Victor’s apartment. Also, he really needed to call his parents. They were probably busy, but he needed to call them before they realized he was out for so long. Yuri glanced at his watch, curious as to how long he had been out.

            Well.

            Maybe his family was too busy sleeping because it was just past one in the morning. Yuri felt his heart drop into his stomach and anxiety whack him with a two-by-four. He’d run off for _hours_.

           “Victor must be having a fit,” Yuri muttered. “God, I’m so stupid.”

            Yuri broke into a sprint, ignoring the cold air that bit at his face The farther he got from the block where Kusu lived, the less people were out and about, the less cars were driving around, the less barking dogs and whirring sirens there were. It made it easier to search for Victor and try to hear him, but it made the night a lot more ominous.

            Yuri raced down the empty sidewalks, willing his legs to go faster. Ever since he started physical therapy, running felt like an instinct. His legs itched, sometimes physically twitching until he went on a run. Something inside him urged him forward all the time and he just couldn’t go fast enough. The wind in his hair, his body speeding along, adrenaline like liquid fire in his veins. It was addictive.

            Yuri wondered if Victor was hiding from him. Victor, despite his bold front, hated confrontation. He addressed things when needed but, if it were up to him, he’d rather leave it be and move on. This made Yuri’s flying sprint slow to a stop. His arms, which had been pumping at his sides like they might propel him faster, had dropped limply.

            What if Victor wasn’t even looking for him? What if he had put it all behind him? It would make sense. Yuri made it pretty clear that he didn’t want to be followed. But Victor, if nothing else, was his coach. Victor needed his student in order to be a coach. Then again, he could have any student in the world. Who wouldn’t want Victor as a coach? Victor was elite. He was magic. He was a god on skates. A god of the skating world. Everyone looked up to him, everyone wanted to be trained by him.

            Yuri was lucky that Victor even glanced his way, let alone agreed to coach him or even speak to him. Yuri brought his gaze up from where it had glued itself to the floor and caught something moving in the corner of his eye.

            “Is that…?” Yuri whispered to himself.

            He saw a tall man in a long dark coat running down the sidewalk on the other side of the street. The figure was making quite the distance and—

            Holy crap that’s silver hair.

            Holly crap that’s Victor.

            Yuri’s brain short circuited and then he remembered something.

            It was Victor and himself running to each other. No, they were running side by side. No wait, there was a glass wall between them. They were running along the glass wall until they got to where it stopped. The glass disappeared, sliding to the side— it was a sliding door. They were in a building and Memory Yuri practically jumped on Memory Victor.

            “ _I was thinking about what I could do as your coach from now on.”_

            “ _Me too. Please be my coach until I retire.”_

            “ _It’s almost like a marriage proposal.”_

            A ring. Yuri glanced down at his hand. He was supposed to have a ring. What? A ring? Where the heck would he get a ring? Why would he wear a one? It was gold. Yuri nodded to himself confidently. Yes, he was definitely supposed to have a golden ring. A thin, gold band. Like a wedding ring. The words “marriage proposal” swum in Yuri’s mind.

            “ _Let’s win gold….”_

            “ _We need rings…._

            “ _For luck….”_

              “Oh, my God,” Yuri gasped, memories flooded his mind. Images and moments and objects of importance.

            _A violin singing, a black and silver outfit, the scraping of skates._

            _A silver medal, his hand being kissed, a promise for better in the future._

            _Victor waving and grinning, standing next to a remarkably less grumpy Yurio._

            _Yuri watched tear drops that weren’t his own fall onto the carpet of the hotel room._

            _Twin rings glinting on the joined hands._

              “Oh, my God,” Yuri breathed again, momentarily wondering if he was married. “Ah, right. It was a good luck thing. I didn’t get married. Oh, God. I was so scared.”

            Heart attack over. His brain _hurt_. With all the memories pounding into his skull, being pinched from the dusty corners of his mind— Yuri let out a sharp cry as pain sharpened deep in his head. He felt his knees give way, but his body never hit the floor before being caught by something warm and solid.

            Yuri glanced up to see sharp blue eyes staring into his own.

 

~

 

            Victor was about to give up hope when he heard a yelp.  

            Thinking it was a stray dog, he didn’t pay much attention to the sound, other than glancing in the direction it had come from. What he saw made him choke. His chest tightened and burned with relief, making his eyes sting. Then he dashed across the street without looking for oncoming traffic.

            Yuri was staggering and clutching his head. Being as far away as he was, Victor couldn’t tell much else, except for the fact that, even with the distance between them, he could tell that Yuri was shivering. Victor ran faster.

            He made it to Yuri’s side just as the boy collapsed. Victor’s arms went out on instinct and wrapped about his student. He reveled the solidness of his friend’s body, letting it soothe away the panic that told him he’d never find Yuri again.

            “Vic…. Vic….” Yuri struggled.

            “I’m here, I’m here, I’m sorry. So, so sorry….” Victor whispered, hugging Yuri tightly. He felt the trembling through Yuri’s chilly clothing. He quickly let go and shed his coat, wrapping Yuri in it before pulling him close again.

            “You came…” Yuri sounded incredulous; eyes open wide with wonder as they caught Victor’s.

            Those two little words made Victor’s heart plummet.

            “God, of course I came,” he said softly, with an air of irritation. “What made you think that I wouldn’t—” Victor stopped and lowered his head, his own words popping back into his head.

            “ _Why would I want someone like_ you _?”_

            _“_ _Someone who needs attention….”_

_“Falling off a cliff. Really?”_

            It made Victor feel even worse because of just how insecure Yuri must be in order to take Victor’s words so badly that he ran away and didn’t expect to be searched for.

            “I’ll always come for you.  Always. Always.”

            Twin lines of warmth ran down Victor’s face. Yuri reached up a trembling hand in awe to brush away the sudden tears but stopped mere inches from his coach’s face. He looked unsure, like he didn’t know if his touch was welcome. Victor grabbed the chilled hand and rested his cheek against its palm, eyes closed. He thought he’d lost Yuri. Again. For the second time. Third?

            “God, you’re shaking!” Victor said suddenly, warm, fuzzy feelings pushed aside. “Come on, we need to get you home.”

            Yuri grinned with relief and leaned heavily against his coach’s strong shoulder.

            “Are you okay?”

            “I remembered a lot of stuff again,” Yuri whispered.

            “What?” Victor was unsure of whether this was a good or a bad thing.

            “It keeps happening at the weirdest moments. Like when I’m really happy, or really….” Yuri trailed off. “Not happy,” he finished awkwardly, wincing at his own word choice. “They were good memories. We had rings… I don’t know where mine…” Yuri trailed off like something dawned on him.

            He was eyeing the gold band on Victor’s finger. Yuri reached out hesitantly and touched the ring lightly.

            “You never took yours off,” Yuri realized.

            Victor’s cheeks flushed as he shook his head tightly.

            “Ow! Oh, _God_ —” Yuri suddenly clutched at his head, knees buckling again.

            Victor started to panic.

            “What— what’s going on? Are you okay, what’s wrong?”

            “My… my head is… exploding,” Yuri whispered, eyes pinched tightly.

            Victor stood helplessly holding up his friend, waiting out the headache.

            “What can I… should I do anything? I don’t know what to do,” Victor admitted hurriedly, heart slamming in his rib cage.

            “I don’t— I can’t— _hurts_ ….” Yuri whined pitifully, like a child with a stomachache.

            “Okay, uh…. okay. Let’s just… let’s just get you home, okay? I have medication for headaches there, and I bet getting some sleep will help. Also, you might be dehydrated. That causes headaches, too,” Victor said

            He hoped him babbling was helping Yuri distract himself from the pain. It was one of the methods that the doctors taught him about helping Yuri through pain. They said to distract by talking, telling a story or a joke, singing— anything as long as it got his mind off the pain.

            Victor thought it was working. They had stumbled to Victor’s front door before Yuri started complaining of the pain again.

            “I know, I know, just a second. Hold on, Yuri, you’re doing great,” Victor muttered softly into his student’s ear as he fished his key out of his pocket. Unlocking the door and swinging it open, the pair were met with a blast of warm air.

            “God bless you, Yurio,” Victor whispered in relief, glad that his new roommate thought to crank the heat up when Victor had demanded that he return to the apartment.

            He resolved to apologize for that. In the morning. Right now, everything either hurt or felt too frozen to hurt and he could only imagine how Yuri was feeling. 

            Victor scooped Yuri up like a groom would hold his bride, figuring it would be easier to navigate around the furniture while carrying Yuri, than guiding him. Yuri curled up tighter in Victor’s arms, clutching the fabric of his friend’s shirt and nuzzling into it. Victor clenched his jaw in order to not grin like a fool and rushed to his bedroom with Yuri.

            Once deposited on the bed, Yuri curled into a ball, arms wrapping around his aching head. Victor pulled the blankets over Yuri and dashed into the bathroom to grab a white bottle, and filled a cup with water on his way back into his bedroom.

            “Yuri, I need you to take these,” he whispered as softly as he could, trying not to aggravate Yuri’s headache further. “Come on, sit up. Can you do that for me?”

            Yuri blinked lethargically at the sound of Victor’s voice and sat up with a bit of help. After taking the pills, Yuri accepted the water that Victor held for him and helped him drink. A small stream of liquid dribbled down his chin, but it was patted dry by Victor, who grinned at Yuri’s clumsiness.

            “Here, let’s get you into something more comfortable,” Victor said.

            He snickered in spite of himself when he finally saw the sweatshirt Yuri was wearing. Victor reached into his wardrobe and pulled out a thick sky-blue sweater and a pair of grey sweatpants, which he handed to Yuri. Victor turned around to offer some privacy, and Yuri managed to get into the new clothes, but collapsed on the bed when he was finished.

            “Just lay down and go to sleep, I’ll be on the couch if you need me,” Victor whispered, heading towards the door after tucking the blankets around Yuri a bit more snuggly.

            Yuri curled back under the covers, body still shivering. He made a delicate whimpering sound that shattered Victor’s heart.

            “Yuri? What’s wrong, do you need something?” Victor asked, chest feeling heavy.

            Yuri nodded and made a similar sound. He reached a slightly trembling hand out to Victor, who caught it between his bigger, warmer ones. Yuri squeezed Victor’s hands weakly and tugged limply at them.

              “Do you want me to sleep wi— ah… to stay next to you?” Victor asked.

            Everything was so much weirder, now that both of them knew how Victor felt about Yuri. Yuri, not noticing Victor’s dilemma, responded with a vigorous nod that had him scrunching his eyes closed and squinting in pain immediately after.

            Victor blinked. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t say no. Yuri was so out of it, he would probably cry. But saying yes would make a weird situation. Not that Yuri would see it as awkward because he was doped on pain killers and exhaustion. So… maybe it would be okay? Totally. It’ll be fine.

            Victor nodded reluctantly and slid into bed beside his student. Yuri reacted immediately. The freezing boy rolled over to lie directly next to his coach, head resting on Victor’s shoulder. Victor’s arm wrapped around Yuri on instinct, but he felt a heat flush across his face for the second time at the intimacy.

            Yuri threw an arm across Victor, which landed on his chest, and he nuzzled his cold nose into Victor’s neck. A sweet, relaxed sigh from Yuri made it worth it. The awkwardness, the freezing cold body, the bony limbs, all of it. Victor pulled the blankets tightly around the both and hugged Yuri tightly.

 

~

 

            Yuri was resting on something soft and solid, feeling swathed in layers of warmth and protection. He sighed softly, humming when he felt something stroking his hair. He heard a breathy chuckle that was so close, warm air passed over his face.

            “He’s like a cat,” Yuri heard a voice whisper.

            Yuri scrunched his eyebrows, trying to decipher who was near him.

            “Shut up, you’ll wake him up.”

            Yuri tipped his head in the direction of this second voice, willing his eyes to open. They felt so heavy. Like weights were holding them down.

            “Well he’s waking up, anyways. Might as well speed up the process.”

            Yuri wholly disagreed. Something poked his spine sharply. Yuri cringed and burrowed deeper into the warm, solid softness that was wrapped around him, feeling betrayed. That warm, safeness was supposed to protect him. It failed.

            “Hey! Stop it,” the voice holding Yuri hissed.

            At the harsh sound, Yuri’s eyes managed to lift their weights and pop open. Yuri jolted into an upright position, realized it was a mistake, and doubled over with painful coughs that rattled his frame.

            Frantic voices started talking at once and hands reached out, grabbing Yuri to hold him up. He felt someone slip behind him, an arm wrap around his ribcage, hands on his face, and voices in his ears.

            “Just breath, please, Yuri.”

            “It’s okay, it’s okay….”

            “What do you mean ‘it’s okay,’ Victor? He—”

            “You’ll make it worse if you keep shouting. Yuri, ignore him, everything’s fine. Just focus on my voice…”

            Yuri did as the voice— Victor, he realized belatedly— said and eventually rasps subsided to wheezes, which became regular breathing.

            “I’m—"

            “I swear to God, if you say ‘okay,’ I’m gonna—” Yurio never got to finish his threat because Victor released his grip around Yuri to smack him on the shoulder.

            Yuri blinked. He was sitting in bed with his back against Victor’s chest, and Yurio at his side. When had that happened? When did he get home?

            “Yuri, are you okay?” Victor asked, pulling Yuri flush against his chest again.

            Yuri tensed at the sudden close contact. He released a held breath and relaxed slowly back into his coach’s embrace.

            “I don’t… I don’t remember…. When did I get home?” Yuri asked.

            “I found you walking outside at night. You were having headaches, we got home, got you changed and we fell asleep.”

            “Oh, right. Headache.” Yuri touched his head lightly, a tiny pang reminding him of the explosion in his brain the night before. Victor’s reaction was immediate.

            “Is it still hurting? Why didn’t you say anything?”

            “No, I jus—” Yuri’s soft voice went unheard.

            “Yurio, go fill this glass of water and get the bottle of pills on the sink.”

            “Victor, I—” Yuri raised his voice, wincing at its raspy tone.

            “Yuri, it’s going to be okay.”  

            “Victor,” Yuri said in barely a whisper.

            For some reason this got Victor’s attention more than when he raised his voice as loud as his tortured throat allowed him to go.

            “What, what do you need?” Victor asked, almost frantic.

            “Nothing, I’m fine. Just a sore throat, that’s all.”

            Victor eyed Yuri closely as if testing him to see if he was lying.

            “Honest? Really tell me, even if you think you’ll just be trouble. Which you aren’t. Trouble, I mean. You aren’t trouble.”

            “Okay, okay. I hear you.” Yuri grinned.

            Victor nodded stiffly and fiddled with the end of his sleeve for a second.

            “So… I should probably get you home…I guess…” he spoke up, his voice soft, slipping out from behind Yuri. Yuri felt confused.

            “I am… home?” he said uncertainly.

            He glanced around. Yep, he was definitely in Victor’s apartment. Victor’s head whipped up and he stared deep into Yuri’s eyes with an expression that so strongly emitted hope that it almost hurt.

              “Why, what did you mea— o-oh. _Home_. Right.”

            Realization hit him like a truck. Victor meant “home” as in where he lived with his family. Of course. Victor’s apartment wasn’t home. Victor’s apartment was a glorified sleepover. Victor’s expression dimmed until it became blank. Yuri felt really guilty.

            And that’s how Yurio found them. Staring at each other regretfully.

            “Is… everything okay?” Yurio asked tentatively when he stepped back in the room with a full glass and a rattling bottle of pills.

            Neither Victor nor Yuri answered. Then, Victor stood up quickly.

            “Yuri was just leaving,” Victor said stiffly.

            Yuri blinked. Apparently, Yuri was leaving.

            Yurio looked back and forth between Yuri and Victor.

            “Are you sure…”

            “His parents are probably worried. I don’t think he called them last night,” Victor said without even glancing at Yuri, let alone asking him if he had called.

            “Ah, yeah,” Yuri agreed reluctantly. He slid off the bed, staggering slightly from the headrush.

            “Are you okay?” Yurio asks, grasping Yuri’s elbow to hold him up.

            Yuri latched onto the arm that held him steady.

            “I’m fine, just stood up to quickly. I think I’m getting a little sick or something from last night, that’s all,” Yuri smiled in a way that was hopefully reassuring, but judging from Yurio’s expression, it wasn’t.

            “Can I walk you home?” Yurio asked.

            “He’ll be fine—” Victor started.

            “I didn’t ask you,” Yurio snapped. “Look, Yuri. If you pass out on your way home, who knows what will happen? We just got you back and we’d rather keep it that way, wouldn’t we, _Victor_?”

            Yurio spoke through gritted teeth and with a clenched jaw, like he was giving Victor a warning. Victor didn’t seem to notice because he stalked out of the room like he couldn’t wait to get away from Yuri.

            “What’s going on?” Yuri demanded as he was ushered to the door by Yurio, who shrugged in response to his question.

            “One second he was holding me and all sad that I have to go home, and then he can’t wait to get rid of me? He was a jerk and then he went out at one in the morning to find me, he’s willing to cuddle me through a panic attack, and then he’s kicking me out?” Yuri dragged his hands down his tired eyes. “And, no. You may not walk me home. Yes, I’m sure.”

            “I can’t believe he’s still being like this,” Yurio complained.

            “Uh, he’s probably just stressed out. It’s not a big deal,” Yuri said easily, sitting down by his shoes at the door.

            “Not a bi—? God, you’re both so… so…” Yurio’s face started turning an alarming shade of red.

            “So, what? Stressful? Because that’s a really good word to describe Victor right now. Stressful. And trying. And taxing. And… other synonyms for stressful.”

            “Troublesome?” Victor’s voice shouted from the living room.

            He said it in a pointed way that made Yuri bristle.

            “Yes, exactly, troublesome. Thank you!” Yuri shouted back as much as his sore throat would let him.

            “So… So...” Yurio continued as if he hadn’t even heard the exchange between Victor and Yuri.

            “Don’t have an aneurism.”

            “Stupid!” Yurio burst out.

            Yuri blinked and jerked away. There was a moment of silence as Yurio reveled in his word choice, clearly pleased with himself.

            “Not what I was expecting,” Victor admitted.

            “You see it right? You have to see it. You’d be blind to not see it.” Yurio said pleadingly.

            “Are you okay?” Yuri asked, eyeing Yurio closely.

            “Yuri, he loves you! He loves you, you absolute _potato!_ Why can’t you _see_ that?”

            Yuri blinked. He pursed his lips and cocked his head.

            “Come again?” he must have just misheard him, that’s all.

            “He loves you, and you love him and you’re both just causing more problems for each other and everybody else by not acknowledging it _so just freaking do it!”_

            “Did… did you just call me a potato?”

            “An _absolute_ potato,” Yurio corrected, unashamed. “Now let’s get you out of here, I’m tired of playing Cupid for you idiots.”

            “I… I have so many questions… I have no idea where to start,” Yuri said.

            “Start from the beginning, but call me,” Yurio said unhelpfully.

            Yuri nodded, tugging on his shoes

            “Where are my clothes?” Yuri asked, remembering his wet and freezing clothes, and the borrowed… outfit.

            “They’re cleaning right now, I’ll bring your clothes later,” Yurio said, helping Yuri of the floor.

            “Oh, thanks.”

            “No problem. You better get going. You’re parents are probably a second away from calling the cops because _you still haven’t called them,”_ Yurio hinted.

            “Alright, alright,” Yuri grumbled. “Thanks again for… everything.”

            “No problem. Get home safe,” Yurio said, closing the door. The sound the door made when it slammed shut seemed final.

            Yuri stood in the hall outside the apartment. The space feeling oddly still and silent compared to the noise and activity that took place inside. He sighed softly, trudging down the hall and pushing his hands into the pockets of Victor’s baggy sweatpants— which Yuri just realized he was still wearing.

            He hunched his shoulders up as he stared at the ground, the movement sending a waft of something familiar up to Yuri’s nose. It was the smell of Victor’s cologne. It made him homesick. He wanted to turn back. He wanted to run into Victor’s and Yurio’s arms and apologize. And cry.

            But he couldn’t. So now where should he go?

            He might as well go home.

            Nowhere else to go.

~

 

            Yurio gripped the door handle tightly after he shut it on Yuri’s face. He tried to block those dark, hurt eyes from his mind. Once the door had shut, Victor poked his head in from the living room.

            “He gone?” Victor asked, only sounding a little regretful.

            Yurio laughed.

            “Hey, I didn’t even do anything. I’m just… moody,” Victor said, sounding tired.

            “Yeah— he was more upset with the fact that you were kicking him out, than he was about your pissy attitude.”

            “I wasn’t kicking him out, I just—”

            “You just lived a fantasy for a few hours, woke up to realize that this isn’t Yuri’s home, got pissed, and lashed out,” Yurio said matter of factly.

            When it was said that way, it sounded stupid. But Yurio understood. It was irritating to not be able to give someone you love what they needed. It was irritating to think that you might not be what the person you love needs.

            “Yurio, he has to go home. I had to get him to go.”

            “You just can’t do anything right, can you?” Yurio said bitterly.

            “I’m trying, I just—”

            “No, you’re not!” Yurio shouted, whirling around to glare at Victor. “You _know_ him. It’s Yuri, for Christ’s sake, everyone knows him. He just wants to be here with you.”

            Victor threw his hands up in frustration.

            “Come on, you and I both know how bad I’d be for him,” Victor muttered moodily.

            “So, you admit that it’s a possibility?” Yurio asked slyly.

            “That what’s a possibility?”

            “You and Yuri.”

            “I’m not—I can’t—” Victor dragged a hand through his hair, sending the normally styled locks to stick out at odd angles.

            “You keep saying ‘not’ and ‘can’t’ and one day you’ll look around and find that it’s true,” Yurio said.

            Victor opened his mouth to respond, but paused, looking suddenly puzzled.

            “What?”

            “If you keep saying that you’ll never be able to have someone, then you really will never be able to have them because you’ll be wasting all your time being defeatist and depressed instead of trying to get your man,” Yurio explained.

            “Where’d you get that from? A love song?”

            Yurio gave Victor a shrewd look.

            “Okay, okay. I get it.” Victor put his arms up in surrender, “Be positive. It’s a great message, really.”

            “You’re so condescending.” Yurio huffed. “Just…. Stop being a meathead, okay? You were doing just fine before last night. And you did good when you went looking for him and took care of him. Can you just do stuff like that?”

            “It just… it’s too close, Yurio. It’s too much.”

            Yurio sighed at this and clapped his hands together like he was praying.

            “Victor. I know you’re scared of commitment or whatever, but most people are. I get that you’re scared to admit that you’re scared of commitment, but, again, _most people are_. You’re not alone, you idiot. And you need to get it together. For Yuri’s sake.”

 

~

 

              Meanwhile, Yuri trudged home alone, an old saying running through his mind.

_Fool me once, shame on you._

_Fool me twice, shame on me._


	15. If Walls Could Speak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri!!! On Ice  
> Hit me up especially if you think Yuri is being too lenient with Victor’s butt-headedness. Yuri is the kind of person to let things slide for the sake of keeping the peace, but I don’t want him straight up condoning jerkishery.

CH 15— If Walls Could Speak

            “Hello, I’m back…” Yuri said softly, sliding the door to the private section of the hot springs open.

            It wasn’t very busy, which Yuri was extremely grateful. He took his time going up those endless stairs without having to make himself look busy to avoid having to talk to anyone. He was also glad no one witnessed him out of breath and stumbling on lead legs, especially with his reputation as an athlete.

            Despite all the PT and the daily exercises and the prescribed diet, Yuri was still way out of shape. Recovery was a slow, tedious and discouraging process, and he was still only just coming to terms with the fact that he may always be in the “recovery” stage.

            Because of the emptiness, the entire building was silent and serene. At least, it was for a few seconds. Then Yuri heard what sounded like thunder coming down the hall towards the kitchen, which he still stood in.

            “Yuri!” his mother’s normally cheerful voice shouted anxiously. “Where have you been?”

            “Yuri, are you okay? What happened?” his father demanded in a slightly more controlled tone that was more relieved than angry.

            Yuri stood in the center of his mother’s kitchen and relished in the tight hugs he was smothered with. Normally, he hated it when peopled hovered, but when his mother demanded he sit down so she could make him tea and an early lunch, Yuri couldn’t help but love her.

            His father sat next to him and asked questions about how he felt and where he’d been, which also would’ve normally been irritating, but Yuri didn’t really mind them in that moment. His mother paused in her cooking to swoop down and peck his hair, and his father held his wrist in a warm grip.

            “Oh, hey. Yuri’s here,” Mari said, walking into the kitchen after the commotion of Yuri coming home had passed. “Where’ve you been?”

            “He was just…” Yuri’s mother trailed off and she turned away from the stove to face Yuri. “Yuri, dear, where were you?”

            “And why didn’t you call?” his father added, voice tight.

            “Um, it’s a bit of a long story, actually,” Yuri said hesitantly.

            “I’ve got time,” Mari said, plopping down next to Yuri and propping her chin on her hand.

            “I— well,” Yuri stalled, “Victor’s mother came by earlier yesterday and said she wanted to see Victor, but—”

            “Wait,” Mrs. Katsuki said, freezing where she stood in front of the stove, but not turning to face Yuri. “The friend whose mother was nervous about seeing her son for the first time in a while was Victor?”

            “Well, yes. I know everyone’s been a little… tense about him lately, and I didn’t want to upset you by bringing him up,” Yuri admitted guiltily,

            “I knew it,” his mother said with a heavy sigh. “When it started getting late and you still hadn’t called, I knew it was Victor.”

            “What? What do you mean you knew it was him?” Yuri asked suspiciously.

            “It’s just… Victor’s been getting you into all kinds of trouble lately. What with the, um, _accident_ , and now the spending the night with him without telling your family—”

            “You do realize Yuri’s an adult, right?” Mari interjected around an unlit cigarette that she held between her teeth. “Yeah, he’s got medical stuff going on, but he’s getting better. And you didn’t ask who the friend he was hanging out with was, in the first place.”

            “Mari, please,” their mother said exasperatedly, turning away from where she was heating water for the tea on the stove. “I know you’re just trying to help, but—”

            “Giving him all these rules and being so hard on him— he probably would’ve left at some point, even if Victor’s mom hadn’t come along,” Mari said with a shrug.

            “She has a point,” Yuri’s father said evenly.

            “Yuri,” Mrs. Katsuki said firmly, “I don’t want you leaving the house anymore without either me or your father.”

            Mari sighed.

            “That’s the exact opposite of what I just said.”

            “What?” Yuri exclaimed once his mother’s words sunk in “I made a mistake, but—"

            “This is for your protection,” his mother said. “And, for a while, I don’t want you leaving the house. Just until you’re healed up from your latest adventure.”

            “I’m not even hurt,” Yuri protested.

            “I see how you’re squinting. I know you have a headache and probably a fever on top of that,” his mother said, bringing a tray of tea in cheery, pastel cups to the table. “I’m sorry but, as a parent, it’s my job to protect you. Even if it’s from yourself.”

            Yuri sighed. He really couldn’t argue with that. He had spent the whole night out without telling his family, he got lost in a city he didn’t know well, he hung out with complete strangers, and then followed a homeless girl to her shack in the woods.

            “So, you’re punishing me?”

            “You aren’t letting yourself heal,” Mrs. Katsuki explained. “If you overwork yourself and keep going on these misadventures, next time you get hurt, you might not bounce back so easily.”

            He _really_ couldn’t argue there.

            “It was a mistake,” Yuri repeated, looking down into the mug of tea in his hands.

            He couldn’t feel the warmth of the tea through the mug. The sunny yellow porcelain was too thick.

            “I shouldn’t have left. I should’ve turned Victor’s mother away at the door,” he said with a sigh, dragging his hand down his face. “I just wanted to help, but I made it worse. It really didn’t go well, him meeting his mother.”

            “What happened?” Mr. Katsuki asked, leaning forward in his seat.

            “Victor’s mother is a… difficult person. And she doesn’t care about her son much.”

            “You’re kidding,” his mother said in a softer voice.

            “She wanted to see him because she wanted his money. She also wanted to tell Victor to stop… um, spending time with people she didn’t like.”

            “That’s insane,” Mari said with a disgusted expression.

            “Apparently, this happens all the time.”

            “She just shows up, demands money from her own kid, and tells him who he’s allowed to be friends with?”

            “Yeah,” Yuri squeezed his teacup between his hands. “I really messed up, bringing them together, again.”

            “Yuri, you didn’t do anything wrong. You were trying to help,” Mari pointed out.

            “And look where that got me,” Yuri said with a flat smile. “Thank you for the food, but I’d like to go lie down now. I’m tired.”

            “Are you sure you don’t want to eat?” his mother asked suspiciously.

            “We should also take your temperature before you go to bed,” his father said, rising from his chair.

            “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it,” Yuri said, waving off their concerns. “I’m really just sleepy.”

            Taking his tea with him, Yuri shuffled down the hall towards his room and did his best to ignore the concerned looks he got from his family as he went.

            Once he made it to his room, Yuri set his tea on the table beside his bed and flopped onto his mattress, not even bothering to change out of his— _Victor’s_ clothes.

            “Hey,” came a soft voice at the door.

            Looking over his shoulder, Yuri found Mari standing in his doorway and leaning against the frame.

            “Hey,” he said glumly.

            “What’s been up with you?” she asked, coming into his room without asking for entry.

            “What’s been up with mom and dad?” Yuri countered. “They didn’t even look at each other, back there.”

            Yuri’s parents were loving, tactile people. They were always hugging and looking into each other’s eyes like it was the first time they’d seen each other. It was weird to see them act almost as if the other wasn’t even in the room.

            “I know they’re stressed out because of the whole accident thing,” Mari offered with a shrug. She plopped down next to him on the mattress, legs sprawled in front of her.

            “But I’m okay, now. What could they be worrying about?”

            “I think… I think they learned a lot about each other while you were in the coma,” she said hesitantly.

            “Like what?”

            “For starters, they fought over the, uh, the plug.”

            “The what?”

            “You know, life support,” Mari said awkwardly. “Mom was completely against it, of course, but Dad said he understood why the doctors would want to pull it because someone with a better chance could be using the machine. Mom kind of snapped.”

            “Snapped?”

            “She said he was an awful parent who wanted to kill his child, that he was siding against her,” Mari shook her head. “She threw a lamp.”

            “She threw a _lamp_?” Yuri asked incredulously.

            “An _ugly_ lamp. She put it out of its misery.”

            “Are we still talking about the same woman here?”

            Their mother was emotional and got hot-headed easily, but she wasn’t violent.

            “You’ve just never been on the receiving end of her protective mama bear mode.”

            “I guess,” Yuri said uncertainly. “I think Mom and Victor have a lot in common that way.”

            “Yeah, they can both be a little hot-headed,” Mari agreed. “Hey, when’s the last time you cleaned in here? Or opened a window?”

            “Um…” Yuri glanced around the room with a wince.

            A fine layer of dust coated the furniture, clothes were strewn around the floor like corpses on a battle-field, and the room was dark and kind of smelled weird.

            “Let’s clean, it’ll make you feel better,” Mari promised, eyeing a few empty bottles and fast-food bags that stacked up in the corner of the room.

            Yuri sighed, heaving himself off the bed. With the help of his sister, Yuri dragged his blankets and sheets off the bed and into a hamper he found sitting on his desk chair.

            “It happened with Victor, too, you know. She blew up at him,” Mari spoke up.

            “What? When?” Yuri asked, piling dirty clothes from the floor into the hamper with his bedding.

            “When she told him to stop seeing you,” Mari said before sneezing from the dust she wiped off the bookshelf with a shirt she found on the floor.

            “She did _what_?”

            “She told him to— sorry, did he not tell you?” Mari asked, looking guilty. “She told him to stay away from you.”

            “Why in the world would she do that?” Yuri asked. “She loves Victor.”

            “She likes Victor,” Mari corrected. “She _loves_ you. She thought all your new, weird habits like with the harming and the cliff jumping were direct consequences of being around your beloved coach.”

            “But that’s—that’s—”

            “Insane? Stupid? Backwards? Dumb?”

            “All of the above!”

            “Well, he’s the only thing that’s changed in your life, recently. It makes sense that she’d track it back to him.”

            “Makes sense, but still…” Yuri huffed, dragging his basket to the door.

            “I was wondering why you were taking it so well. Still, I thought he would’ve told you,” Mari said, following him out of his room and down the hall to the basement.

            “Victor hasn’t been telling me much lately,” Yuri admitted, heaving his hamper of dirty laundry onto his hip.

            “No, not Victor— he’d never tell you anything if there was a chance that it’d upset you.”  
            Yuri snorted. _Actually_ , he wanted to say, _he’s been going out of his way to do just that._ Mari stepped ahead to hold the basement door open, and gave Yuri an odd look, but didn’t say anything.

            “Who did you mean, then?” Yuri asked to cover the awkward silence.

            “Yurio.”

            “Yurio?” Yuri said in surprise, watching as something fell from his hamper. “Shoot, catch that sock.”

            “Yeah, Yurio. He doesn’t really care about hurting people’s feelings, even if he loves the person. I figured he’d tell you,” Mari said with a shrug, picking up more and more clothing that Yuri dropped as he awkwardly shuffled sideways down the stairs to the basement.

            “I don’t know. They aren’t really talking to me much,” Yuri admitted. “Anyways, what else have Mom and Dad been fighting over?”

            “Come on Yuri, do you really—”

            “Mari, please.”

            Mari sighed and shook her head.

            “The whole rehab thing was a big one,” she said. “They fought over which of them was going to take you. I didn’t think it was as big a deal as they were making it... but then again, I couldn’t take you either, because of work.”

            Yuri tried to keep his expression neutral when he heard that his own parents, fought each other to not have to help him. It sort of hurt. He dropped his basket on the ground once he reached the bottom of the stairs.

            “It was weird to watch, too. Mom was all high and mighty about splitting parental duties and Dad is too spineless to actually speak up for himself,” Mari continued.

            Yuri had to laugh at that. For what is was worth, he was glad he was having this conversation with Mari. Anyone else wouldn’t have told him that his parents argued about life support. Anyone else wouldn’t have told him that neither of his parents wanted to take him to therapy. Anyone else wouldn’t have called his father “spineless” or his mother “high and mighty.”

            “They’ve been fighting before this, you know. The whole cliff incident might have been a catalyst, but it didn’t start this.”

            “But… they’re so happy. They’re a great couple, I don’t understand why they’re having issues now,” Yuri sighed.

            Mari leaned back against the washer while Yuri began filling it.

            “Adults fight,” she said with a shrug. “And it’s not like they’re calling each other names, or anything. It’s more like… constructive debate.”

            “Constructive debate?” Yuri repeated.

            “Shut up.”

            Yuri couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if his parents never stopped fighting. If his parents decided it was just too difficult to stay together, that Yuri was too difficult to handle. He felt like the world was coming down around him.

            “Do you think, maybe, that people fall out of love?” Yuri heard himself ask.

            “What kind of question is that?” Mari asked, shutting the washer door with her hip once the last of Yuri’s clothes had been loaded into it.

            “I thought Mom and Dad were the best couple ever. They always said they loved each other, they cooked for each other, they listened to each other. They never hurt each other, or lied, or fought…”

            “No relationship is perfect,” Mari said slowly. “There’s going to be rough spots and faults. You know that.”

            “I guess,” Yuri said with a shrug, fiddling with the knobs of the washer until it kicked on.

            “Is this about you and Victor?” Mari asked, clearly already having the answer to the question.

            “What? No,” Yuri said. “No way. We’re just friends. That’s all. If that.”

            “What do you mean ‘if that’? You guys are practically married.”

            “D-don’t say things like that!” Yuri hissed, feeling his face warm up.

            “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Mari said, rolling her eyes. “What’s been going on with you guys?”

            “I don’t… He’s mad at me. I think. He might even hate me. And for what, I don’t know.”

            “Woah, what?” Mari asked, looking like she didn’t believe him. “What are you talking about?”

            “After his mother left, he said some unkind things. I bolted. He found me and took me h— uh, back to his place. He let me spend the night and was his normal, kind self. Then morning came and he got mad and couldn’t wait to kick me out.”

            “Sounds like you had a heck of a night,” Mari said, sounding equal parts impressed and sympathetic.

            “Yeah,” Yuri huffed. The more he thought about last night, the angrier he got at Victor.

            It wasn’t like Yuri was trying to mess with Victor’s life by bringing his mother over to visit or having his accident. And it wasn’t Yuri’s fault that Victor was having some kind of internalized homophobia, existential crisis mashup.

            “Look, everyone’s a little high-strung, right now,” Mari said, drawing Yuri out of the thoughts that were only fueling his frustration. “I’d give it time. He’s probably just lashing out because he’s stressed and scared. It’s not fair to you, but that’s probably what’s going on.”

            “Scared?”

            “You still have trouble with your memories, right? Maybe he’s worried he’ll never have you like he had you before the accident,” Mari said softly.

            “What does that mean?” Yuri asked urgently, heart in his throat. “Mari, what do you mean by that?”

            “You should probably talk to Victor,” she said after a pause.

            “I kind of don’t want to talk to him. At all,” Yuri admitted. “He’ll just yell at me again.”

            “We’ll figure it out,” Mari promised.

            Yuri shrugged, avoiding her gaze.

            “Hey, I don’t mind being there, if you want,” Mari said, nudging his shoulder.

            “I, uh, I think I’ll be okay. Thanks though.”

            Yuri kept looking away, but he could feel his sister’s eyes on him.

            “Are you still mad? It would be bad to go into a conversation like that angry.”

            “I don’t…” Yuri paused. “I don’t think I’m mad. Maybe I should be, but I know him. I know he wouldn’t do something to hurt me on purpose.”

            “Hey, I didn’t mean ‘talk yourself out of being mad or hurt’,” Mari said firmly. “I just meant ‘don’t gear up for a fight.’ Whether he meant what he said, or not, he still acted like a jerk and he needs to apologize and talk it out. Just don’t go trying to fight.”

            “Okay,” Yuri said. “I’ll keep that in mind.

            “Good,” Mari said. “Now, what else is on your mind? I can tell that’s not all you’re thinking about.”

            Yuri grinned down at the floor. He was never good at hiding things from his sister.

            “You said something about a catalyst,” Yuri said after a beat, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I, um, because I caused more stress…. Stress makes it hard to be around people. So, Mom and Dad fighting more because of stress that I caused… it kind of means that I did this, right? That I, you know…”

            Mari grabbed Yuri into a tight, bruising hug, almost knocking them both onto the floor.

            “You did nothing,” she said fiercely. “I promise.”

            “Sorry,” Yuri said after a minute with a wet laugh. “I guess I’m still upset about, you know, _him_.”

            “I would be too, if my best friend kicked me out of his place and treated me like crap, But don’t worry, we’ll fix this.”

            “Thanks, Mari.”

            Mari ruffled Yuri’s hair, laughing when he jerked away with a whine. As they trekked back upstairs, they started hearing hushed but urgent voices coming from the kitchen. At the top of the stairs, they went silent to listen in on their parents’ conversation.

            “…control him like this…”

            “…am I supposed to do…”

            “…trust…”

            “I have a feeling I know who they’re talking about,” Yuri said moodily.

            “At least they’re not screaming at each other,” Mari said with a shrug. “Always look on the bright side of life, little brother.”

            Yuri snorted, closing the door to the basement behind them.

            “Seriously, sometimes they just go on and on and on… I mean, the words they’re saying aren’t mean. They have a legitimate conversation, but it’s so loud, sometimes,” Mari said with a laugh.

            “And you had to deal with that alone,” Yuri said guiltily.

            “Yeah, it sucked,” Mari said honestly. “And I had to keep it all from you, even after you were home. But they never tried to get me to choose sides or join the fight. They always quieted down and stopped when I asked them to… I think they’re going to be fine.”

            “I hope so.”

            “And you’re going to be fine, too.”

            “I hope so,” Yuri said again. “I just hope Victor doesn’t hate me as much as it sounds like he does.”

            “Come on, there’s no way Victor could hate you. He’s probably just still messed up about the accident thing. I mean, we all kind of are. But everyone’s going to get through it. And everything’s going to be fine.”

            “Wow, when did you become the family therapist?” Yuri asked with a grin.

            “Hush, you’d all be lost without me, and you know it,” Mari said, ruffling a hand through her brother’s hair again.


	16. Try Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri! On Ice.
> 
> You were all supportive and kind, even though I know this story isn't the best thing in the world… I love you all bunches, thanks for all your support but, I have to be honest, it's a relief to be done with this story. I really enjoyed making it, but there's something great about finishing it.
> 
> Love always,
> 
> Eb

 

CH 16— Try Again

            “I can’t.”

            “You have to.”

            “I can’t.”

            “When are you going to do it, then?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “So, we do it today,” Mari said rolling onto her stomach at the end of Yuri’s bed. “Go talk to your boyfriend.”

            "Mari," Yuri whined, dropping his head against the headboard of his bed. "He’s not… I jus—"

            "Yuri, I  _know_."

            "But how—"

            "I don't  _know_."

            " _Mari_ —"

            " _Yuri.”_

            Yuri glared at his sister.

            "Yuri," Mari said patiently. "You need to talk to him. It’s been _days_.”

            “I know,” Yuri said petulantly. “Hey, who are you texting? Your typing is a little aggressive.”

            Mari held her phone out so Yuri could read the conversation she was apparently having with Victor.

            “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Yuri said, betrayed but not surprised.

            "You’ve been moping around for days,” Mari said, hauling herself off the bed and standing with her hip cocked. “When’s the last time you left your room?”

            “It’s not that I don’t want to talk to him,” Yuri admitted. “I just don’t know… I don’t know, I just don’t know _how_.”

            “Very coherent of you,” Mari said flatly.

Yuri glared at her.

“Don’t look at me like that. You know you’ll figure it out. And remember what I said: don’t let him get away with it.”

            Yuri grumbled under his breath while his sister teasingly gave him a two-fingered peace sign over her shoulder and dashed out of the room.

            "I'm running away,” Yuri groaned, flopping back on his bed.

 

~

 

            Victor heard his phone go off while he was lounging across his couch, with one arm buried in a bowl of buttery popcorn and the other around Yurio’s shoulders. Yurio huffed and grabbed the phone off the coffee table, unlocking it without taking his eyes off the TV. He looked down long enough to read the first text and made a face.

            "What?" Victor asked, looking down at his phone, which Yurio held up for him to see.

            "Yuri's big sis needs you,” Yurio said

 

_Mari (12:58)_

_Hey Victor_

_Mari (12:59)_

_Hey_

_Mari (1:00)_

_Don't ignore me_

_Mari (1:02)_

_Pick up your phone_

_Mari (1:02)_

_I need a favour_

_Mari (1:03)_

_It's not a big one don't freak_

_Mari (1:03)_

_I lied it’s a big one_

            "What do you think she wants?" Yurio asked curiously, scrolling through the texts.

            Victor shrugged.

            "I guess I'll just have to—"

            "Oh look, she responded."

            "Responded?" Victor repeated, glancing down at his screen.

            There was a single blue bubble amidst the many yellow bubbles from Mari, implying that he had texted Mari back. Which he did not.

            "You responded to her for me?"

            "Don't look so miffed,” Yurio said, rolling his eyes.

            "What does she need? And would it be wrong if I didn’t help her?”

            "She's Yuri's sister. She's an extension of Yuri. You'd help Yuri if  _he_  texted you, wouldn't you?"

            “What does she want?" Victor asked with sigh.

            "Okay, she says _Yuri is still crying over your situation—”_

            "Crying?" Victor perked up.

            "Um…. Blah, blah, blah,  _can't get him to chill out, he's complaining all the time…_ Basically, she can't get him to get over you and she needs you to do her dirty work for her."

            "Yuri is not  _dirty_  work," Victor muttered, making a face when Yurio laughed at him.            "Shut up. What else did she say? Why is Yuri crying?"

            "So demanding,” Yuri muttered under his breath. “Let’s see… yikes, so Yuri told Mari that you hate him. And that you yelled at him and kicked him out of your place and…. Yeah, he’s a little messed up about, you know, everything. She wants you to fix what you broke.”

            “Wha—I don’t hate him,” Victor said. “I’m just… thinking about his best interests. Which aren’t me.”

            "Yeah, yeah, you’re a martyr, whatever,” Yurio said, rolling his eyes and looking back down at the phone. “Are you going to help Yuri, or not? Big sis needs an answer.”

            “I don’t know, I mean… we didn’t exactly leave on good terms, last time,” Victor said.

            Yurio gave him an unimpressed look.

            “Get over yourself and fix whatever it is you and Yuri are," Yurio ordered.

            "Yeah, yeah,” Victor said. “I don't think he'll want to see me, but I'll go."

            "Of course, he wants to see you, you're his friend or whatever. Now go save your damsel before he does something stupid, again,” Yurio said, pulling the bowl of popcorn onto his chest and turning sideways so he could lay down and see the TV and eat at the same time.

            "You're so supportive, Yurio, did I ever tell you that?"

            "No."

            Victor grabbed his phone back from Yurio and headed down the hall towards the front door. He slipped into his jacket, wrapped a grey woolen scarf around his neck and stepped into his shoes, locking the suit behind him when he left.

            "Here goes nothing," he muttered under his breath, not feeling too optimistic.

            Victor stepped outside, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets to protect from the freezing air. The view was breathtaking. The sun was a little golden ball in the clear sky, the snow glittered like diamonds, but got greyer the closer he got to the city. It was satisfying it is to be the first one to leave a mark in the snow, even if it was like wet ash.

            Sooner than he expected, Victor found himself to be at the bottom of the long flight of steps that lead up to the Katsuki hot springs and home. The distance between his apartment and the Katsuki home seemed to shrink every day.

            Hot dread rolled in Victor's stomach as he hiked up the stairs. Mari sounded like she expected him to fix this. Whatever “this” was and however he was supposed to “fix” it. But so much was wrong that Victor had completely lost track of what all had gone wrong.

             Victor hissed, realizing he was already at the front door to Yuri’s home. He still hadn't even finalized his plan for what he was going to say, how he was going to apologize. Victor paced back and forth in front of the door as he considered his options.

He could comfort Yuri, which was easy enough, if Victor managed to keep from yelling again. He could most definitely apologize for _everything_. Absolutely. But “fixing?” What did that even mean?

            Victor groaned, burying his face in his hands. He vaguely heard the front door swing open, but was too focused on his dilemma because Yuri probably hated him because he had been a complete jerk to Yuri and now he was he supposed to fix everything and Victor was the _least_ handy person he knew—

            "Vic, calm down.”

            Victor looked up to see Yuri standing in the doorway in a huge sweater and a horrible combination of mismatched socks and his father’s sandals, which weren’t even latched. He probably threw on the nearest shoes and ran right out into the snow. Victor’s heart ached.

            “Y-Yuri?”

            "Uh, yes, yeah, I’m here,” Yuri said, looking surprised that Victor was talking to him. “No reason to panic.”

            “Oh, uh, I’m not,” Victor said sheepishly. “Just… just nervous.”

            “Oh. That’s good. That you’re not panicking, not that you’re nervous.”

            Victor laughed awkwardly, hands lacing and unlacing spasmodically.

            “Are you still with me?” Yuri asked, coming closer.

            Victor nodded, not meeting Yuri’s eyes.

            “Thank God,” Yuri said with a relieved sigh. “I thought you were having a panic attack and you know I have _no_ idea how to help someone with those, so you were going to be on your own with that. You’d think that since I, you know, have those sometimes, that I’d be better at helping other people with them, but…. Yeah, no. I suck at it.”

            In the middle of Yuri’s anxious babbling, Victor finally took his gaze off of his shoes and looked up at Yuri. He stopped breathing when he saw how wet Yuri’s eyes were.

            “Oh, sorry,” Yuri said, rubbing at his eyes with balled fists. “I just… it’s upsetting. You know, to see someone having…. It kind of freaked me out. Is it, um, is it that scary for you when I…”

            “Yeah, it’s… yeah,” Victor said lamely.

            Yuri took a shuddery breath, hands disappearing into his sweater sleeves.

            “I don’t think I thanked you. For those times you helped me through, you know, _that_.”

            “You don’t have to thank me,” Victor said quietly.

            “It freaked you out, but you pushed that away so you could help me. That deserves thanking,” Yuri countered.

            “You’re a really good guy, Yuri,” Victor said with a watery smile.

            “Aw, Vic.” Yuri’s voice warbled.

            Hope blossoming in his chest, Victor reached out. His arms slid around Yuri’s shoulders and he melted to fit against his best friend. He sighed and buried his face in the soft, warm wool of Yuri’s sweater.

            “Um, can you…” Yuri said tightly.

            That was when Victor realized Yuri’s arms weren’t wrapping around him. That his hug was one-sided and Yuri’s hands were trembling in the air, spread a bit like he was surrendering.

            “What?” Victor asked, pulling back a bit. “What’s wrong?”

            The moment there was a centimeter of space between them, Yuri backpedaled into the wall of his house. A clump of snow fell from the roof and landed on his shoulder.

            “Don’t… you…” Yuri clenched his jaw and brought a fist up to cover his mouth. “Don’t do that.”

            Victor took a step back, arms up and mimicking Yuri’s surrendering pose.

            “What… what do you mean?”

            “Don’t touch me.”

            The command felt like a slap to the face. The fact that Yuri’s hands shook like he was being electrocuted, but he still kept his voice calm and steady only fortified his words. Victor was a bit thrown off. He was used to a shy, soft-spoken Yuri that had trouble standing up for himself and telling others “no.” This was a sharp contrast.

            “Wh— why?” Victor cringed when he heard his own voice crack.

            “Just don’t.”

            “Yuri, please. Just tell me why you—”

            “Because anytime we share anything—even if it’s just a hug, or you telling me something about you that I don’t know—you freak and yell and push me away and I’m sick of it,” Yuri said sharply.

            Victor felt something cold grab his heart as he watched Yuri swipe at his eyes.

            “Yuri, I… I’m sorry,” he said lamely. “I can’t even imagine… I was so wrapped up in myself that I couldn’t… I didn’t…”

            “Yeah. You didn’t,” Yuri said, voice a bit softer. “Let’s go in. It’s freezing out.”

            Yuri stepped inside without looking back to see if Victor was following. Feeling strikingly unwelcome, Victor stumbled inside and watched as Yuri began rummaging around, pulling out mugs, heating up water, and hunting down tea leaves. The cheerful, soothing sounds of a domestic chore made the atmosphere feel a bit familiar, but Victor still felt out of place.

            "So, Mari texted you," Yuri said with his back to Victor.

            "Um… yes,” Victor mumbled, awkwardly standing in the middle of the kitchen as Yuri compared the benefits and soothing qualities of each kind of tea in his mother’s collection.

            Victor felt uneasy. He never expected to be allowed back into the Katsuki home. Yuri’s parents made it pretty clear that they didn't want Victor hanging around, and part of him was just waiting for Mrs. Katsuki to jump out of a closet and beat him with a wooden spoon until he left.

            "She texted you to come snap me out of my little pity party?” Yuri asked after a minute, snapping Victor out of his thoughts.

            "She wanted me to help you." Victor felt himself slipping into that polite tone he reserved for strangers. “I want to help. If you’ll let me.”

            "Then we’re going to talk about this. And you aren’t going to run away or yell at me anymore,” Yuri said, avoiding Victor’s eyes as he poured the tea.

            He handed Victor a teacup and hopped up on the counter.

            "Okay. I want to help,” Victor said seriously. “I’m not running.”

            He took a sip of his tea. At the same time he let out a powerful sneeze, making his tea splatter onto his pants. Yuri snorted into his teacup and Victor couldn’t help but feel a tentative warmth and pride and getting his friend to laugh.

            "I hear laughter!" sang a familiar voice.

            Victor startled when Mari popped out of the hallway and into the kitchen.

            "Oh, you made me tea, how lovely," she said, stealing Yuri's cup.

            She took a sip and grimaced, handing the cup back to Yuri, who glared at her and clutched his tea to his chest protectively.

            "How much sugar did you add, anyways?" Mari choked out.

            "Six tablespoons,” Victor answered for Yuri.

            "It wasn’t six! Maybe, four,” Yuri defended himself.

            Mari laughed, earning an elbow to the side from Yuri. She squawked and poked him back.

            "Hey!" Yuri complained.

            Victor couldn't help but grin. He missed this.

            “Don’t you have to go to work?” Yuri pointed out.

            “Don’t remind me,” Mari grunted. “Being a barista is a lot tougher than I thought it’d be. Not the most glamorous job, either, but rent doesn’t pay itself.”

            “You don’t live here anymore?” Victor asked, wondering just how much change he’d missed out on.

            “I mean, I still come around, obviously, but it's nice to not live with your parents, you know? Plus, I get free coffee, so it's a win-win,” Mari said with a grin.

            “I hadn’t even thought about moving out,” Yuri admitted, looking into his cup. “But I guess that’s going to come up eventually. I can’t live with my parents for the rest of my life. But owning my own house sounds… scary.”

            “You can crash at my place, as long as you do some chores,” Mari offered. “I’m not letting you freeload.”

            “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Yuri said, grinning into his tea.

            “Speaking of moving out, how long is Yurio going to keep living with you?” Mari asked, turning her attention to Victor.

            “I have no idea,” he said honestly.

            “Well, he has to move out at some point, right?” Mari asked like it was obvious.

            Her statement was met with silence.

            "Yikes. Okay, then, you guys can contemplate  _that_  great mystery while I go make 780 yen an hour. See you later," Mari saluted as she backed out the door.

            The door slammed behind her, bringing with it a gust of chilly air.

 

~

 

            After Mari left, Victor laughed softly and shook his head.

            "What's so funny?" Yuri asked, watching through the window as his sister slipped on a patch of ice near the stairs.

            He sighed in relief when she caught herself on the handrail and turned to stare down at the ground, looking as if she was talking to the ice— mostly likely scolding it.

            "I just…" Victor shrugged hiding his face back in his teacup.

            Yuri frowned, pulling the cup back down.

            "Tell me,” Yuri said softly.

            Victor whipped his head up to stare at him, obviously surprised. A small part of Yuri felt guilty for being… sharp, before. Then the bigger part of Yuri reminded the naïve, little part that, if he didn’t put his foot down, then the whole “yelling at Yuri and kicking him out” thing would probably continue until it spiraled out of control and—

            "I missed this," Victor said suddenly, ducking his head like he was too shy to meet Yuri's eyes. "It’s been a week and I miss this so much already. I mean, you and Mari. It's like…”

            “Like what?” Yuri asked curiously.

            “I— look, I don't have any siblings," Victor announced suddenly.

            Yuri blinked, desperately trying to hold onto that part of him that was mature and responsible and mad and not about to let Victor get away with being an arse because he was lonely and sad and struggling.

            "My mother hates me. I haven't seen my father in…. well, he died, so I guess that's not his fault," Victor laughed awkwardly. "You guys and Yurio are all I have.”

            "Your mom…” Yuri said hesitantly, curiosity and tact warring. “Why is she…”

            "Out for my money _?”_ Victor said darkly. "Never around?”

            Yuri swallowed hard and nodded guiltily.

            “She married my father for his money. She and I were never really close because—" Victor cut himself off, shaking his head. “Anyways, when I see you and Mari… you’re a packaged deal. And I kind of have that with Yurio a bit, with _you_ — well I did, anyways. I… I guess I'm just glad to have you and her in my, um, family… you could say.”

            "Even though you can be a complete jerk,” Yuri said, watching Victor look away. "I consider you and Yurio to be family, too. I bet Mari feels the same way."

            Victor looked back at him with hopeful eyes. He stepped hesitantly towards the counter.

            "For a while, my family just myself,” he said. “It doesn’t feel like that anymore.”

            Yuri smiled as Victor leaned against the counter at the opposite end that Yuri sat on.

            “You don’t have to, you know, stand a mile away,” Yuri said.

Victor smiled back and inched closer until his shoulder could just brush against Yuri’s leg, which dangled over the edge of the counter.

            "You know, in elementary school, I thought a lot about who I was going to marry,” Yuri said abruptly.

Victor looked up at him with a confused expression.

            "I’d seen my parents kiss and hold hands, and I wanted that… that sense of belonging, I guess. Belonging was… important to me," Yuri smiled wistfully. “I’m pretty similar to my parents, and they managed to find someone to love, so I thought maybe I could, too. I guess I thought that if they got teased and never had many friends, but still found someone who would love them…  then maybe I could too. And now…"

            "Now I don't know,” Yuri admitted. “I thought, at some point, that I had what they had. But I think I was just fooling myself.”

            Yuri stared out the window, unable to see his sister anymore. She was on her way to a brightly lit, bustling coffeehouse full of happy, busy people living happy, busy lives with their friends and family at their side. Yuri envied them. His house was out of coffee.

            Yuri shuddered and sniffled.

            "Yuri, you can have what your parents have, Victor said, voice still gentle.

            Yuri barked out a laugh.

            "I don’t know.” He tapped the side of his empty cup. It made an empty, hollow sound. “I'm average, uninteresting. I have a knack for befriending people who are worth ten thousand of me and..."

            Yuri felt white-hot fury rising in him, but he welcomed it over that chilly ache in his chest. He knew it was dramatic, but he felt like he was spiraling. Like the future was this big, terrifying thing and he had no one on his side to get through it, like there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide—

            "Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Victor said.

            Yuri sigh as part of him said “oh, this again,” and began planning an escape route.

            "I came to  _help_  you. To _fix_ us. But we never will—"

            Yuri turned his face away, clenching his jaw. He didn't want to hear this, didn't need to hear this, didn’t know if he could take hearing this.

            "— unless  _you_  want that." Victor set his cup on the counter and moved to stand in front of Yuri. “You said it yourself. We need to talk. We haven’t even done that, and you’re already giving up on us and I— I want to fix this. Because I _hate_ what I’ve done to you. But we can’t do anything if you don’t want it, too.”

            “I want this. I just…” Yuri sighed.

            "You look like you're getting better,” Victor admitted. “But I know you're not. And… and I'm scared of what might happen if you keep looking like you're getting better instead of actually getting better. You'll be getting worse, inside, and no one will see, and…"

            "And I know…. I  _know_  you think there's no way that someone could love you," Victor whispered, voice thick. "I know what that's like, and I know that I had a part in making you feel that way— a big part. I just want you to know that…"

            Victor sighed heavily. Yuri could see the tears starting to well up in his coach's eyes. He could see worry lines lightly creasing around Victor's eyes and across his forehead. Yuri could see everything. And that only meant that Victor could see everything, too.

            The kitchen felt very warm, probably from the stove he heated the water for the tea on, but it felt  _really_  hot. Also, it felt oddly intimate with Yuri sitting on the counter and Victor standing between his legs, staring into his soul and  _seeing_  him.

            "I want you to know that I’m so sorry. And I wanted you to know it's easy to love you."

            Yuri choked, coughing harshly into the crook of his elbow.

            "Yuri?" Victor said, hands hovering in the air around Yuri’s shoulders.

            "Hu— wha?" Yuri asked articulately, reintroducing his body to breathing.

            "Are you okay?" Victor asked, hands clenched together in front of his chest.

            Yuri leaned back against the wall mounted cupboards.

            "Ah, yeah— I'm just, yeah," Yuri said. "But, uh did you… What did you mean by…  _that_?"

            "Yuri, I bought us rings, I would've thought you'd catch on by now," Victor said with an exasperated smile. “Would’ve thought _I_ would’ve caught on by now.”

            Yuri’s heart was bursting from his chest, dancing around in its little bone cage. And then it started going too fast and his thoughts swirled to catch up.

            “Victor, I don’t…” Yuri trailed off. “I think, maybe one day… one day we could, you know, but… but not now,” Yuri explained, something in him cracking.

            Victor’s expression shuttered. Yuri felt guilt well up.

            “I figured you’d say something like that. I just wanted… wanted to put it out there, I guess,” Victor said, a hand ruffling through his hair nervously.

             “I just… there’s a lot that needs to be said before we…” Yuri trailed off with a vague hand gesture.

            “I know, I know.”

            “I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to, just… I’m not ready to. Yet.”

            “I don’t think either of us are, honestly,” Victor said, tugging at his sleeve. “Let’s just… try to be friends again.”

            “Yeah. That’d be good,” Yuri said, breathing a sigh of relief.

            “So, if you would ever want to come over— not to, you know,” Victor said quickly, face turning bright red. “Just to… hang out,”

            “I know what you meant,” Yuri said, hiding a grin behind his cup.

            “Oh. Okay. Um, Yurio will be there too, and you can bring Mari. Or anyone you want,” Victor continued. “I just, uh, last time you were in my home, we made bad memories. I made us bad memories. And I want to fix that. I want to fill my home with good memories. Of us, our family.”

            Yuri gnawed on his lip, mind racing. He caught Victor's eyes. This is what he wanted to see every day. Those eyes. That smile. That person.

            "O-okay," Yuri whispered, elation and apprehension welling up. “Someday. If you’re sure.”

            "I’m sure,” Victor said earnestly. “And if there’s anything else I could do to… I just want you to feel safe.”

            “I don’t… I don’t _not_ feel safe around you. I just… don’t feel welcome, I guess. I kind of feel like you’re going to yell at me because you’re stressed about something else, and every time we’re doing fine we’ll suddenly not be fine, and you’ll kick me out if…” Yuri sighed.

            “Yuri, that’s the definition of not feeling safe,” Victor said firmly.

            “No, I know you aren’t going to hit me or anything,” Yuri scoffed.

            “That’s not— Yuri, hitting isn’t the only way someone can hurt someone else.”

            “But I’ve been dealing with people saying mean things since the beginning of time. It’s not a big deal,” Yuri said with a shrug.

            “It’s…. Yuri, it’s bullying,” Victor said firmly. “If not abuse, it’s at least bullying.”

            “Wha— you never abused me!” Yuri countered. “You weren’t always the friendliest, but I wouldn’t in a millions years ever call that abuse. It happened two times. Maybe three.”

            “Once is too much,” Victor said seriously. “Once is enough to break someone’s trust and hurt them. And I’m sorry I did it at all, let alone more than once.”

            “Okay,” Yuri agreed, relaxing at the honesty in Victor’s eye. "Are you— you're crying!"

            "What? No!" Victor exclaimed, all previous confidence vanishing as he rubbed his eyes.

            "Stop that, you'll irritated them," Yuri chastised, pulling on Victor’s arms.

            With gentle fingers, he rubbed across Victor's eyelids, soothing the irritated skin. Victor sighed, leaning into the touch.

            "There. All better," Yuri grinned sweetly.

            Victor caught Yuri's hands again and placed them on his own shoulders, his own arms going to wrap around Yuri's waist for a loose hug.

            "Um, what are you doing?" Yuri asked, squeezing the fabric of Victor's shirt.

            "Breath, breath. It's okay. Nothing you don't want to happen will happen," Victor said, loose grip getting even looser. “Just say the word and I’ll back off.”

            Yuri felt himself instantly relax at those words. Hesitantly he rested his head against Victor’s chest. He felt wetness against his shoulder and realized that Victor was crying into his sweater.

            “It’s been a hell of a year, huh?” Yuri said quietly, catching a glimpse of his wrist over Victor’s shoulder.

            “Y-yeah,” Victor said, taking a deep breath.

            “It’s okay. I… I’ve got you,” Yuri said, holding just a bit tighter.

            “I’ve got you, too.”


End file.
